Forever Dead
by MzSweetPeach
Summary: "In over a thousand years I never thought I would see such bravery, yet here you are standing before me." This story serves as an alternative to Dead Ever After, picking up right after the 12th book, Deadlocked. In this tale, Sookie proves she is capable of true courage and Eric wagers his life in order to be with her. Can love prevail?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: All Southern Vampire Mysteries characters belong to Charlaine Harris._

* * *

I.

I woke with a sudden and unpleasant start. I hadn't enjoyed the carefree, dreamless night's rest one often hopes for after a traumatic ordeal. Even in sleep my mind felt hopelessly confused; images of the cluviel dor danced about endlessly, taunting me. Slowly the horrors of the previous night came obediently marching back as if on a precise military schedule.

Jannalyn was dead. Eric was gone. And Sam, resurrected with the cluviel dor's magic, was in the guest bedroom across the hall. I used my sixth sense to search for his brain pattern and found it, though it held the definitive calm of sleep. I fell back against my pillow from my stiff upright position and let out a long exhale.

Sam was alive. I had saved him from an awful fate. So why didn't I feel like the brave heroine? My mind wandered to Eric and a dull pain throbbed in my chest. I hadn't yet been able to fully process the meaning behind his abrupt departure from the Were meeting. Sure, I had somewhat come to terms with his possible decision to elope to Oklahoma with Freyda, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. And it certainly didn't mean I wasn't still in love with him.

An unpleasant wave of sadness came over me when I remembered his stoic face looking down at me as I hunched over Sam's deadening body. What was that expression that had painted Eric's face? Was it annoyance, hatred, anger? I closed my eyes and saw Eric's icy blue ones gazing at me in the darkness of my lids. No, the expression he had held was regret.

After several more minutes pondering the events that had transpired, I came to the realization that I would not fall back asleep and sluggishly got out of bed. After washing up in the bathroom and taking extra care to remake the bed and arrange the throw pillows, I went to the kitchen to make breakfast. I was compelled to whip up one of Gran's favorite recipes. After all, I had a man who had just come back from the dead under my roof.

I mixed pancake batter, added some blueberries, and looked out the kitchen window as I turned the burner of the stove on. The Stackhouse backyard looked just the same as it always had: some weeds needed to be pulled in the flowerbed, my car sat in the worn out grass which served as my parking spot, and a light dew hung over everything. The lovebirds in the large Oak which stood by the kitchen window chirruped brightly. It could have been any old morning, but something just felt undeniably wrong.

"Hey there, Sookie," Sam's voice practically made me jump out of my skin and I whipped around gripping the frying pan like it was a pump-action shotgun.

Sam didn't really look like someone who had just bridged the planes between life and death. In fact, except for some dirt on his plaid shirt and blue jeans he looked completely revitalized and was positively glowing. His reddish blond hair was messy as it is usually is, but it now had a healthy sheen to it. His skin had the subtle tan of a man who makes his living working outdoors, though he spent most of his time running the bar. Good to know at least one person had slept well. Or perhaps some remnants of the fairy magic were still at work.

"Morning! I'm almost done fixing breakfast. You want some orange juice?" I tried to be my usual perky self but Sam saw through the façade instantly.

"Look Sookie, you don't have to pretend like nothing happened. We need to talk about this. Help me understand."

"Even I don't fully understand, Sam. All I know is you were dead last night. I felt your heart stop, and something inside me just couldn't let that happen," I pleaded with him not to probe me further. Even I was unsure how I could fully rationalize my possession of an ancient Fae artifact which was a product of my Gran's supernatural love affair with a fairy named Fintan.

Sam's eyes seemed to be searching me and I felt completely naked and completely ridiculous standing there still clutching the non-stick frying pan I had gotten on sale at Walmart. I turned back toward the stove as he hesitantly sat down at the small wooden table and began sipping the glass of orange juice I had set out. I went to work pouring the batter and flipping the pancakes. If there's one thing my Gran taught me, it was how to be a good hostess.

* * *

II.

Sitting at the kitchen table with Sam after a hearty breakfast felt surprisingly normal. The sun was shining brightly now and the morning dew had long since evaporated, though the lovebirds still chirped merrily. We didn't speak much, but occasionally, I would catch his eye and there'd be a strange vehemence behind his gaze. I couldn't wait any longer to explain what little I knew how to.

"The cluviel dor was a gift from my Gran. I didn't know about it until recently. She had hidden it in an old desk that was in the attic. It had the power to grant me just one wish and well, I guess you know the rest," I said, somewhat embarrassed.

I didn't know why I felt so strange explaining why I'd chosen to save Sam's life. Part of me knew it was the only option I had; I couldn't let him die without killing something inside myself in the process. Yet I knew there was some aftermath of my decision which I'd have to deal with. I just didn't know what it was.

"Does this, this cluviel dor, have anything to do with the fairies who you've been hanging around with?"

"Yes, it is—was—fairy magic, and very rare. But now that I've used it, it's gone. The compact doesn't even look the same anymore."

I went to my bedroom to retrieve the now used-up artifact. I no longer felt any warmth or happiness emanating from it as I picked it up; it was just another trinket to be auctioned off at a garage sale. I returned to the kitchen and placed it on the table in front of Sam. Its color was now dull and flat, a far cry from the creamy green with gold trim it had once been. He gave it a quick glance but his eyes eventually traveled back to mine.

"And Jannalyn?" Sam asked softly.

"She's dead, I'm sorry," although I wasn't really sorry. Jannalyn had been a snake and her betrayal of Sam was unforgiveable. Good riddance, as far as I was concerned.

But Sam didn't look heartbroken or even remotely saddened by this news. Their relationship had been rocky long before her death. _Good,_ I said to myself, _there's no reason Sam should shed a single tear of mourning for that horrible woman._ Clearly far from grieving, Sam's next question actually took me by surprise.

"Sookie, you could have wished for anything in the world, anything at all, and you wished to save my life?" Now there was something deeper than mere curiosity in Sam's eyes, a determination which made my stomach turn somersaults in a decidedly unpleasant way.

"Of course I did, Sam. You're my best friend."

He looked at me with that same desperate forcefulness, that same seriousness, and I was finally beginning to see what lay behind his dark blue eyes. He scooted his chair close to me and I suppressed a cringe as I heard the wooden legs scrape against the floor and thought, _I wonder how long that'll take to buff out_.

Sam hugged me tightly and the contact between us made his shifter brain broadcast loud and clear. In bringing Sam back from the dead he thought I had solidified an eternal bond between us. I have to admit it was a pleasant change to be so deeply appreciated. It had been quite awhile since someone had expressed such gratefulness.

"Thank you, Sookie. Thank you." His words were heartfelt and powerful, and his eyes became watery. For the first time I truly recognized how astonishing the magic of the cluviel dor was. Sam was a living, breathing, talking miracle because of me. But given how spur of the moment my decision was I hardly felt I was worthy of all his praise.

"There's no reason to thank me. You're a good man, Sam Merlotte. You would have done the same for me or anyone else you care about."

Sam grazed my cheek with the back of his hand then rested it at the nape of my neck. He started pulling me closer and began to lean in slowly. I saw him shut his eyes and I could finally pinpoint what had felt so overwhelmingly off from the moment I woke up. Just before our lips touched I turned my head and pulled away.

"I...I can't. I'm sorry. Please don't take this the wrong way," but as I went to look at him I knew he already had. The overwhelming thankfulness I had seen previously in his eyes and in his mind was completely wiped away and replaced by stunned disbelief. His brain waves were now only giving me grief and sadness. Sam got up from the table and retreated back to the guest bedroom with his head hung. When he came out he was wearing his boots and grasping his car keys.

"I wish I could repay you for what you did for me," he said shortly, barely glancing in my direction. And just like that he was out the backdoor. The rumble of his truck engine made the lovebirds in the nearby Oak tree scatter.

* * *

III.

"Well, that went well," I muttered solemnly to myself as I got up to do the dishes and clean up. Who knew saving someone's life would elicit a romantic reaction? I had always loved Sam in a brotherly sort of way, but as he leaned in to kiss me I knew before it even happened that it would have been all wrong. Eric had disappeared without so much as a word and Sam had left abruptly after I denied him. I could practically earn a PhD in repelling men!

I checked my calendar and thought _hallelujah_ as I realized I was off work. Seeing Sam so soon after that semi-awkward encounter would have been too much for flesh and blood to stand. But on the other hand, the prospect of a day alone at home was not altogether comforting. Solitary confinement is peaceful at first but can quickly turn depressing. I finished wiping down the kitchen table and rustled up a library book from my bedroom.

I sat in the living room and stared down at the page, trying to concentrate. All of the words seemed to melt together and become incoherent. I found myself picturing Eric again, but not just Eric. I saw Eric with his potential vampire bride Freyda, who was rich and powerful and everything I was not. They embraced each other in my mind's eye and Freyda laughed and mocked me. Eric looked as defeated as a boy who had just been told his dog was run over by a Mack truck. Freyda pulled him closer to lay a sloppy, wet kiss on his lips as her sly eyes taunted me.

"Ugh," I grumbled and slammed the book shut. I couldn't sit still and let these images haunt me. I knew the impending marriage was a politically-driven impasse and apparently out of his hands, but if Eric was going to go with Freyda and abandon our life together then I had to accept that. I had been single before, right? _Before you knew how amazing it felt to be in the loving arms of a Viking Vampire_, I thought maliciously. Sometimes my own mind could be my worst enemy.

I got up from the old armchair and set to work doing the only thing I knew for sure would occupy me enough to temporarily forget my heartache: I cleaned. I started with dusting and did a thorough job, going over every neglected nook and cranny. I swept and vacuumed and sprayed and bleached. I turned on the radio and danced foolishly to every terrible song on the Top 40 as I worked. I went over the baseboards and dusted the fans and even washed the sheets.

I took a break in the late afternoon to have a sandwich but as I sat at the same kitchen table which Sam and I had nearly kissed at just hours before I felt that familiar unease. The thoughts came flooding back and I quickly got up and began my cleaning spree again, starting with polishing away the scrape marks Sam had made with his chair earlier. By the time I was through, the entire house had the faint aroma of PineSol and Lemon Pledge.

Finally, my lack of sleep the previous night began creeping up on me and I felt my eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion. I retired to my bedroom and began my usual routine.

I let out a huge sigh as I curled up under my freshly washed floral bedspread. It was only dusk and the sun still peaked shyly over the horizon but I felt I deserved an early night after such a productive day of cleaning and alienating the man whose life I had just saved. Well, maybe that latter part wasn't necessarily productive.

I reached over to the nightstand to check my phone for any missed calls or texts. When I activated the screen it held the most depressing news one can get on their cell phone: _No New Messages_. Yet somehow, I was too tired to even care and I promptly drifted off into what I hoped would be a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

IV.

To sleep was heavenly, although it was far from dreamless. In a haze, Eric and Sam appeared and began pulling my arms in one direction or the other. Eric snarled at Sam and Sam barked back menacingly. Finally, I let out an earth-shattering scream. Then they both skulked away and I was left alone.

As I turned over onto my right side I dreamed of a cool body sliding under the covers with me. My lips began to curl into a smile—as long as I was dreaming I might as well enjoy it, right? A cold hand wrapped around my waist and I half opened my eyes, pressing my back closer to the imagined intruder. I rolled over to face the mystery man and found myself eye to eye with Eric Northman.

"Ah," I breathed quietly into his bare chest. "This is a good dream." I nestled my head underneath his chin and took in his delicious scent as his arms curled around me. His hands began rubbing my shoulders and he pulled me closer.

"Sookie," he whispered in my ear. I looked up and even while dreaming his clear blue eyes brought me instant peace. I forgot about Sam's resurrection and misplaced attempt to kiss me. I forgot about Eric's possible marriage to the Queen of Oklahoma. I finally felt right. All the misgivings I had experienced earlier dissolved as I lay in his arms.

"Sookie," Eric repeated, "this is not a dream."

And then he kissed me, slowly and methodically. I barely had time to process his statement and jump back into reality before I was swept away by the softness of his lips and the calculated rhythm of his tongue. His hands traveled from my shoulders down my spine and onto the small of my back before I felt his fingers slinking underneath my shorts.

My eyes sprung open and I pulled back to stare into his face, unable to accept that something so good was not a product of my dream state but was indeed happening, right here in my bed. Eric looked into my eyes hungrily, his strong and able hands now clutching me around my waist. My, what those hands were capable of...

"I need you. Right now," his voice was forceful and had an animalistic edge. His fangs came down with that recognizable _click_. Now, it was my turn to meet his lips and as I did so I gripped the back of his neck to pull him close and ensnare him with my kiss.

My hands traveled up into his golden hair and he shivered when my nails grazed his scalp. I felt him growing large and stiff against my leg and a familiar tingle started at my navel and spread downward. Still moving his tongue in a gentle rhythm, he pulled down my shorts and panties and I felt his hand slide against my bare butt and cup the cheeks.

"Mhm," I moaned into his mouth as we continued to kiss. My audible exclamation excited him further; I felt every inch of his glorious length as he pressed his body against me and then finally rolled me onto my back. He sat upright on his knees and I admired the perfection of his physique in the soft glow of my nightlight. I took this opportunity to strip off my t-shirt as he frantically slid out of his dark jeans.

Utterly naked, he leaned down slowly atop me, his considerable manhood stood at complete attention. My legs quivered with anticipation and I spread them open for him to enter. Eric's gaze never broke from mine as he penetrated—slowly at first, every inch breaking new ground and making my mouth open wider and wider with pleasure.

When he had made it halfway inside of me he leaned down to kiss my neck. His tongue swirled on my delicate skin and I felt fireworks explode beneath the surface. I moved my hands against his hard, defined muscles, squeezing his shoulders and arms with gratitude. He then backed out a bit only to push inside even deeper than before. I gasped in ecstasy and he groaned against me. I felt my wetness seep out onto my inner thighs.

"My lover," he whispered hoarsely in my ear in a maddeningly sensual voice. He was picking up some speed now and I willed my legs to open wider to allow as much of his member to enter me as possible. He took my left breast in his large hand and squeezed softly. I closed my eyes and allowed my tactile senses to take over. My hands ran hurriedly up and down his broad back and shoulders, encouraging him to continue pulsing.

"Oh Eric, please. Please don't stop," my hands traveled down to his firm butt and I guided him along the path. He continued to move in and out in a mouthwatering rhythm. Finally his hips thrust passionately and I felt our pelvises touch: he was all the way inside.

Suddenly, Eric's powerful arms lifted my back completely off the bed and I found myself in a sitting position directly on top of him. He sat facing me and we looked into each other's eyes—mine dark and mysterious, his crystal blue and expressive. He changed his rhythm and was now using his powerful hands to grip my waist and lift me up and down onto his shaft. The friction was touching places I barely even knew existed.

"Sookie," he cried out urgently into my ear as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my breasts into his chest. I arched my back and began kissing him frantically. The change in position was driving my body crazy. An electrical current raced all the way from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. I felt myself climbing to the pinnacle and his gasps and moans told me he was approaching the same precipice.

I urged him onward, my fingernails digging into his cold, smooth skin. He accelerated, groaning all the while in his deep, masculine tone. Suddenly I felt the warm burst of climax and I clenched my thighs tightly against his sides, spasms shooting all throughout me. As my muscles contracted and I cried out with pleasure he moaned louder than ever and pushed inside me hard. Eric had arrived just in time with me.

We stayed just like that for a spell, our bodies still intertwined and displaying the telltale aftershocks of ecstasy. Both of us breathed deeply and held one another in blissful silence. In that moment, everything was right.

* * *

V.

Afterwards, we cuddled up under the covers and I would have laid there with him till high noon if he'd have let me. However, I'm sure the fact he was undead and thus burned to a crisp by sunlight would have put a damper on that plan.

It was nice to feel Eric's fingers trace patterns along my back and occasionally move up to stroke my hair. The scent of him was intoxicating. We seemed unable to move out of each other's arms and given the weakness in my knees, I was perfectly okay with that. Though I didn't want to, I knew we had to talk about the previous night.

"Eric, what happened last night? You just up and disappeared after the Were meeting. I thought…I thought you had gone," I looked into his eyes to gauge his reaction as I spoke.

"I'm sorry I left so suddenly. Even vampires can be victims of emotion," Eric said enigmatically. I turned to face him and saw his frank eyes gazing down at me. I now wished we could just make love forever instead of having to navigate these difficult subjects.

"I know you're mad at me for using the cluviel dor on Sam. If I'd had the foresight, maybe I could have used it to make sure we could be together. But Eric, he was as good as dead. I had to," I pleaded with him earnestly, searching his stoic gaze for any inkling of forgiveness. He unwrapped his arms from around me and moved onto his back, staring blankly up at the empty ceiling.

"I understand why you did what you did," Eric said unemotionally. Apparently he could no longer make eye contact with me, "I left out of disappointment, not anger."

The balloon of joy I had blow up while we made love was fast deflating. I would rather deal with outright rage than disappointment. Now Eric could barely even look at me. What was I supposed to make of that?

"So you would have preferred that I use the cluviel dor to benefit you. Okay. I can deal with that. But I won't sit here and say that I regret saving Sam's life, because I don't."

The moment I spoke those words I knew they were true. I couldn't even imagine a world without Sam in it. If I had let him die knowing I had the power to revive him I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. I felt like I was back in my earlier dream with both men yanking me in two painfully opposite directions. I could sense the sadness welling up inside of me and I tried desperately to stamp out the prickling of tears I felt in my eyes. Eric didn't speak again, so I had to.

"I only ask for your honesty. So you might as well just tell me you want to go off with Freyda and live happily ever after with her. Tell me you're leaving," Oh no, the tears were coming. My efforts to remain dry-eyed were crumbling, "Tell me you don't want me anymore."

Suddenly, Eric moved at vamp speed to jump on top of me. His strong hands pressed my shoulders down against the bed. My heart beat quickened as I braced for his cruel admission that he was indeed going to marry the Queen. He leaned in intimately close as he said:

"I want you, Sookie Stackhouse. Always. Don't you dare ever think otherwise," he spoke with such a forceful urgency that I knew it was true. I could feel him imploring me with his eyes. He moved his right hand away from my shoulder to wipe away the few solitary tears which I'd let drop.

"I don't want to lose you, Eric."

"And I don't want to lose you," he responded quickly. His eyes pierced mine with their brilliant blue color.

"Then stay here with me. Forever," I said in a small voice. As long as we were being honest I might as well let all my wishes be known.

His voice dropped several octaves as he said determinedly, "I will find a way."

Eric stared so intently into my eyes at that moment that I felt he was touching the very surface of my soul with his gaze. For some reason his seriousness made me giggle and he leaned down slowly to plant a kiss on my smiling lips. In a split second, another vamp speed movement occurred which was barely perceptible to my human vision. Now Eric was on his back and he had me straddling him on top. My hands rested on his beautifully defined chest and I sat down with my butt against his pelvis.

"Hmm, I could get used to this," he smiled up at me slyly. It had been a long time since I saw that mischievous smirk and a rush of happy memories flooded back to me. I stared down at my handsome vampire husband and relished every angle of his chiseled features.

"I can't wait till you tell Freyda to kick rocks. I'm going to thoroughly enjoy that. By the way, how did you get away from her to come spend the night with me?" I jested playfully at him. But instead of returning my flirtation some unease emerged to color his face. I began to wonder: how _had_ he escaped the notice of his powerful suitor to journey to Bon Temps and have a late night tryst with me?

Just then, I saw a flash of movement outside my bedroom window. Was that a _face_ I had seen peering in through the curtains? My breath caught in my throat and I gasped in shock and horror. Instantly, Eric sat upright and rigid. The fun-loving grin had vanished from his demeanor.

"What is it, Sookie? What happened?" he asked me quietly, holding me close to him as if to protect me from a boogey man underneath the bed.

My voice wavered as I met his eyes and whispered, "Somebody's outside."

* * *

VI.

Eric leaped off the bed with his fangs bared. I extended my mind to scan the front of the house but sensed nothing. I heard Eric growl under his breath as he rushed to the window to yank the curtains open. I hopped off the bed and patted the ground in search of my clothing which had been strewn onto the floor. Glancing over I saw only darkness.

"Did you see who it was?" I entreated him with my eyes big as saucers. He looked back and shook his head. In another movement he pulled on his pants and shirt and placed his hands on my shoulders.

"I need to go outside and catch the scent to track them down. Promise me you'll stay in the house," he looked worried—not an expression he wore often. My breathing began to accelerate. If Eric Northman, a Viking Vampire over 1,000 years in age was concerned then that probably wasn't a good sign.

I felt weakness rising up inside and before he walked out of the bedroom I said quietly to him, "Please don't go."

He came back to me as I stood like a helplessly lost puppy in the middle of the room and hugged me close.

"I will return," he assured me. Just as he leaned down to kiss me on the forehead there were five booming knocks at the backdoor, _Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang-Bang_. My body convulsed in fear and Eric tensed up and flexed his considerable muscles.

Who could be lurking outside my house in the middle of the night and then have the audacity to knock on the door? There were wards around my entire property. Bellenos the elf and my witch friends Amelia and Bob had all laid protection spells in order to stop those who wished to harm me. Had the wards somehow been weakened? Or did the visitor have another agenda?

Before I could stop him, Eric rushed out of the room toward the back of the house. He returned mere seconds later with the most dismayed expression I had ever seen cross his face.

"Who is it?" I asked him in a squeaky, terrified voice, "Who's at the door?"

He just stared at me with those big baby blues. I felt beads of sweat break my forehead as I stood frozen in place, trembling in my loose t-shirt and cotton shorts. Suddenly, Eric scooped me up and whisked me into the bathroom. He sat on the edge of the antique clawfoot tub and perched me in his lap.

Eric's fangs descended and he bit into his wrist. I saw the dark red blood begin to run down his arm as he held the wound to my mouth.

"Drink," he demanded in a voice marked by urgency, "we must reform the bond."

"What? Why?" To say I was confused would have been an understatement.

"There's no time to explain," he responded gruffly, "quickly, drink before it heals and closes."

"Eric, the bond has been broken. Even if I drink your blood now we can't forge a new bond, can we?"

"Our bond is not that far gone, it will only take a few drops to reestablish itself, especially at my age," his eyes blazed like wildfire.

I didn't know who could possibly be knocking at my door to elicit such a reaction. Eric was always cool, calm, and collected even under dire circumstances. To see him like this was cause for intense anxiety.

"Sookie, this is not a request," Eric then firmly pressed his dripping wrist to my mouth and I stopped questioning and began sucking.

The blood was sweet and rich with a subtle metallic flavor which awakened my palette. Eric let out an involuntary moan of pleasure and his contentment only made me pull harder on the wound. He put his free arm around me and I felt the magical substance seeping throughout my body as it coursed into my veins and muscles. The more I drank, the more I craved him.

Eric then took his free hand and held my neck. He laid a delicate kiss on my jugular vein and then bit me ever so gently. My eyes shot open in surprise but the sensation was intensely erotic and I became even more desirous once our blood flowed mutually.

A louder, deeper groan emanated from his throat as he tasted me and I echoed his gratification by continuing to drink from him with increasing enthusiasm. His wrist was really gushing now and I glimpsed myself in the bathroom mirror with crimson dripping down my chin. He sucked on my neck slowly and sensually, careful not to draw too much. As I sat on his lap I could feel him growing erect.

Without warning, another violent round of knocking at the backdoor interrupted us in our passionate exchange, _BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG_. Eric let out a guttural growl as I gulped down a few more mouthfuls of his blood before finally pulling myself away.

He gently picked me up and sat me on the countertop. He dabbed his index finger in his own blood and used it to heal the two punctures on my neck. He then washed off his wrist and the deep red blood flowed down the drain, contrasting sharply with the clean white enamel of the sink.

He wetted a towel and dabbed my face and neck. The blood was now in full effect, every inch of my body was pulsating with the introduction of his elixir. I could feel him deep down in my bones making me strong. I looked into his eyes and felt the familiar rush of calm that the bond instilled.

"I'll always know where you are now. No matter what," Eric said quietly as he looked down at me, "I'll be able to feel your presence again, feel all of you again."

"Not saying I'm unhappy about that, but how come you suddenly had the urge to reform the bond now?" As if on cue, several more knocks came thundering upon the backdoor and it sounded like the frame would be cracked by the force. The knocking was becoming more relentless. The visitor was growing weary of waiting.

"Sookie, I need you to listen. If something happens to me, just know that I always have and always will love you," his eyes begged me to understand.

"I love you too, Eric," in fact, I didn't think I had ever loved him more than in that moment. The bond was born again and his essence felt extraordinary. But I was scared, and I knew he could sense it.

Eric's eyes became solemn as he helped me down from the countertop and took my hand in his, kissing it as he did so. We walked through the hallway that led to the kitchen and backdoor. I felt as though I were marching in a funeral procession.

I saw a figure obstructed by the paisley ruffled curtains and sensed the void of a vampire mind. What was once curiosity was now blossoming into fear. Eric unlatched the lock, turned the knob, and the door creaked in protest as he reluctantly swung it open.

"It took you long enough! Didn't mean to interrupt your romantic evening, but it's rather important I speak to Eric," the woman wore a short and tight black dress and spoke with a syrupy, falsely sweet voice. Her bosom spilled out of the bodice and her pale skin, caked with makeup, gleamed in the moonlight. She was beautiful, and it sickened me.

"Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" she asked with a malicious grin as she looked daggers at me. Freyda, Vampire Queen of Oklahoma, was standing on my back porch.

* * *

VII.

"I'd rather die than have you set foot in my house," I snapped. Queen or not, this was still my home.

"Then perhaps you will die. And soon," she snarled at me, dropping the coquettish pretense. Clearly, seeing me straddling Eric butt-naked had struck a nerve of jealousy with her.

Eric then moved in between us and stepped outside, guiding me to join him by grasping my elbow. The night air had a chill to it and the moon was hidden by clouds. Except for the dim light from the kitchen we were shrouded in darkness.

Though my porch is rather spacious the unwelcome guest made it feel as cramped as if we were having our little powwow in a closet. I glimpsed some lawn tools and debris resting against the side of the house and desperately wished my earlier cleaning spree had extended outside.

"Forgive me, Freyda for my defiance. I assure you it will not happen again," Eric spoke slowly but coldly. I felt waves of hatred emanating off of him like the stink lines on Pig-Pen. Eric was apologizing to_ her_ for snooping in _my_ window and banging on _my_ door? This was definitely not good.

"It better not happen again. You swore no allegiance to your human wife remained, but now I see that is sadly not the case," Freyda had such a pretentious air it made my eyes roll, "Perhaps it is necessary to hold your divorce proceedings sooner than we had planned."

At these words my heart sank into my stomach and my breath caught in my throat. So Eric really was leaving. Hearing the word "divorce" out of Freyda's mouth somehow made it much more real. It took every ounce of strength to maintain my composure after absorbing this gut-wrenching news.

"That will not be necessary, Freyda. Our nuptials are not set until next month, there is no reason to rush a trivial divorce," Eric was stalling and though he had a strong tone, I sensed him wavering through our bond.

"I'd really appreciate it if y'all stopped talking about me like I'm invisible when I'm standing right here. Freyda, you may have cornered Eric into marriage with your ridiculous vampire politics but make no mistake, he will _never_ love you," though I knew directly insulting a Queen was not the wisest maneuver, I was so overcome by heartache and anger that my emotions were now ruling me.

Freyda did something very surprising at that moment: she laughed. It made her sound even more smug and loathsome than before and I had to remind myself that smacking the stupid grin off her face would definitely not be a good idea.

"My dear girl! What on Earth ever made you think that this is about _love_?" She was practically in hysterics with her disbelief, "This is about _power_. Do you know what I stand to gain through wedding Eric Northman? My kingdom will flourish," She drew herself up to her full height and put her shoulders back. Arrogant, much?

"Please forgive Sookie, Freyda. She doesn't understand the inner workings of the royal infrastructure," Eric spoke without emotion but he gave me a cautionary glance and projected a strong warning through the bond. He wanted me to back off, though I knew he felt my pain just as I felt his.

"Yes, I realize your human is largely ignorant and I shouldn't blame her for that," Freyda replied contemptuously, "If she were smart, she would know that vampire-human marriages almost never work in the long run. We are immortal and bloodthirsty. We have centuries of knowledge and cunning. It's a pity you never taught her that her status barely surpasses that of a piece of meat."

I was so infuriated I wanted to spit. Rage was building inside Eric as well and it was projecting strongly onto me. I looked up at him and saw a completely flat and disinterested expression; he was much better at masking his emotions than I was. She should have sensed the animosity in the air but unbelievably, she continued her rant:

"I assume it has been many years since you've had sex with another vampire, Eric," now she was speaking directly to him, "It will only take a few minutes for you to remember how much more satisfying it is to be with someone who can…keep up," In the blink of an eye Freyda moved at her supernatural speed and was right in front of him with her huge breasts pressed against his chest.

I felt a towering inferno of hatred growing inside me. My brows drew together and my eyes narrowed. She was purposely provoking me on my own back porch! I couldn't believe this foul creature had any pull or sway over Eric. I could sense he was disgusted by her but his face never betrayed him.

"Yes, it has been quite awhile," he said curtly.

"Well, perhaps I should give you a reminder," Freyda then did the unthinkable: she grabbed Eric's face in both of her hands and leaned in to lay a kiss on him with her ruby red lips.

Several things seemed to happen all at once. I jumped on her back monkey-style and yanked her face away from his by her hair. Eric's blood had made me not only strong, but reckless. Eric slipped out of her grasp and moved at vamp speed to the side of the porch with the lawn tools. He grabbed an old wooden rake that was leaning against the house and broke the handle in half over his knee cap. Fangs bared and snarling, he moved to stake the Queen of Oklahoma through the heart with the splintered tip when suddenly we were awash in bright lights.

I saw as many as twenty people emerge from the woods. Some were holding flashlights and others were wielding high-powered rifles. They were all dressed in black combat attire and wore bullet-proof vests. I slid off of Freyda and Eric dropped his makeshift stake. A large black SUV peeled around the corner and trained its high beams on us. The Queen took a few moments to regain her composure as the intruders approached—she straightened her bodice and carefully patted down her hair.

"You really think I would come all the way out here alone? My, my, you do have a lot to learn," she said in a voice which made my skin crawl. I sensed a new wave of emotion coming off of Eric now. He was afraid.

* * *

VIII.

I heard the door of the SUV open and close and gulped when I recognized the occupant coming out of the passenger side. It was Felipe de Castro, Vampire King of Nevada, Arkansas, and Louisiana. He wore a three piece suit and his black hair glistened under all of the lights.

I took a moment to ponder how my wards could have failed me so epically when finally I realized that these people were not here to hurt me, they were here to protect the interests of the Queen.

"Ms. Stackhouse! It's always a pleasure," Felipe bowed and kissed my hand as he stepped on the porch. He seemed to be in an excellent mood, all things considered, "and Mr. Northman! How good of you to stop by for a visit! Freyda called me here on a hunch that this is where you ran off to and lo and behold, she was right! She usually is," he added as an aside.

"My King, I only wished to set my wife's financial affairs in order before reporting to Oklahoma. The visit was purely business," Eric said casually. He was utterly expressionless on the outside but inside he was writhing in pain. I looked at him, searching for some type of answer but his gaze never met mine.

"Now, I don't think that's entirely true," Freyda chimed in. I felt my hair curling with my hatred of her, "When I first came upon the house I spied Eric and his human _in bed together_," she said the last words as if they disgusted her.

Felipe looked like he was enjoying this, "That, Mr. Northman, is a grave offense. You have sworn fealty to the Queen of Oklahoma and you are contracted to marry her in less than a month. You maintained that your current marriage could still stand in the meantime because you no longer had any attraction to the human," Felipe looked at me slyly and flashed a stomach-turning grin.

"Though, I can't really say I blame you," the King continued, "she does smell absolutely delectable."

"Please, excuse my indiscretion, your Majesty. I never intended to undermine your authority," Eric was desperately trying to conduct damage control.

"You are excused. However, I do think it's time for your marriage to Ms. Stackhouse to come to an end. You are my subject. You are under contract to marry a Queen. Do not defy me again, Mr. Northman," Felipe's voice was now cold and heartless. Freyda looked positively ecstatic. I felt like vomiting.

The King snapped his fingers and the driver of the huge black SUV emerged holding a velvet bag. I already knew what it held inside. Eric had his eyes trained on the ground, he was clearly defeated. The driver handed Felipe the bag and he extracted the ceremonial knife with a nauseating smile. I had the sneaking suspicion that the King had been waiting for just such an opportunity to harm Eric. Felipe had long suspected that his sheriff had a hand in the death of his regent, Victor Madden.

Eric took the knife without a word. He then turned to me, finally looking me straight in the eyes.

"Sookie Stackhouse. I renounce the bonds of our marriage and the union of our blood. I am your husband no longer. You are my wife no longer," the sadness coming off of him nearly floored me as I heard him speak the words. He presented the knife to me handle first and held up his wrist—the same wrist I had just drank from. I now knew what had to be done.

I made a shallow cut and a single drop of blood fell to the ground before the wound healed. Eric took the knife from me and I held out my own arm so he could complete the ritual. I gasped as he sliced my skin and many more droplets of blood began falling. I wouldn't be so quick to heal. I could sense how much it pained him to hurt me, and I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks in streams.

I looked up and noticed both the King and Queen practically drooling at the smell of my blood. I clutched my wrist to my t-shirt to stopper the flow.

"I do hope you have a pleasant evening, Ms. Stackhouse," Felipe smirked at me with his fangs now descended, "I wish we could stay and ah, keep you company," he looked thirstily at my dripping wrist, "but we have more pressing matters to attend to. You understand, I'm sure."

Felipe de Castro gave me an insincere wink and then began walking down the steps and back toward the black SUV. Freyda's guards turned to walk back into the woods with their guns and flashlights. Again, the night grew dim.

"Let's go, hubby," Freyda spoke scathingly, enunciating the pet name as her fingers stroked Eric's back, "you wouldn't want me mentioning to Felipe that you just attempted to stake a Queen, would you?" And with that she strode off the porch and into the SUV.

Eric and I finally stood alone again, but I couldn't find anything to say. I was still bleeding and the tears were clouding my vision. A sharp honk blasted from the SUV trying to hurry Eric along. He stroked my wet cheek with the back of his hand as he looked at me and spoke quietly:

"This is not the end."

And then he was gone. I fell to my knees and broke into full on sobs as I heard the car door slam shut. The driver peeled around the corner just like he had arrived. Though the strength of the blood bond was rapidly fading with our growing distance, I could feel Eric's emotions as clearly as if he were whispering them in my ear—_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…  
__  
_

* * *

**Author's Note: If you've made it this far, thank you! I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I know exactly where I want to take this story, so if I receive enough positive feedback (and perhaps even if I don't), I will happily continue on into the infinite abyss. Any comments, suggestions, or criticisms are more than welcome. Be ruthless.**

**Also, p****lease excuse my lack of proper chapter separation. I was unclear how the system works as this is my very first fanfic. Now I know ;)**

**- Peach**


	2. Chapter 2

IX.

Sleep didn't come that night. In fact, given my hellish rollercoaster ride of emotions in the past 24 hours, I wasn't sure if it would ever come again. How cruel it was that Eric had returned to me only to be snatched away even more viciously than before. His last words still rang in my ears:

_This is not the end._

I repeated them in my head ad nauseam, trying desperately to remember his deep and forceful tone. I had to ingrain those words in my mind forever. What if I lost the sound of his voice? Next would be the confident swagger of his walk, and the pastel pink of his lips. The feel of his hands, creased and rugged, would slowly begin to fade. Then the way his eyes illuminated when he smiled would become hazy and blurred. I had to hold on to every piece of him. I could not forget.

Plagued with insomnia, all I could do was lay sprawled in my bed and take in Eric's lingering smell. It was a masculine musk with an undercurrent of sweetness; like the aroma of a sturdy leather jacket softened by a rose placed in the pocket. I dug my head into the pillows and pulled the sheets up to my face, savoring his mouthwatering scent—relishing what could very well be our last time making love.

Though it was less than an hour ago that we were laying in this very bed together it was almost as if he hadn't been there at all. I found myself searching for ways to make him real again—I cherished the faint tingle between my legs where he had entered me and the disturbance in the sheets our lovemaking had created. The dull throb of my wrist where he had cut into me was a more painful memento.

I thought of how he had held me and kissed me. I thought of how he had jumped on top of me and looked at me unblinkingly as he assured me I was the one he wanted, _always_. More tears began to fall as I took his pillow against my body and curled up in a fetal position. Though I closed my eyes I remained restless and thought only of Eric until the brightness of the morning began penetrating my lids.

When the chirping of the lovebirds became too loud to be ignored, (how annoying they now sounded), I uprooted myself from the bed like an ancient redwood desperately clinging to the soil. Though I had slept in the early evening before Eric had slid into my bed, the pangs of exhaustion crept up on me, beating their loathsome fists against my skull.

_Ugh,_ I lamented to myself. This was not the best way to start the day. I flicked on the bathroom light and instantly saw the stained towel Eric had used to dab my face and neck after our bloody exchange. It now sat lonely and abandoned on the countertop, the color quickly turning from a brilliant red to a dull brown.

Images of us transferring blood journeyed back to my mind's eye and I could now recall his taste and his urgency at reforming the bond. _The bond_…I closed my eyes and desperately tried to feel for his presence, his emotions, anything at all, but was met with only a blank emptiness. I knew it was futile; wherever Eric was now he was undoubtedly fast asleep, dead until nightfall. Still, something about that emptiness compounded the misery, the rage, and the abandonment which now consumed me. Something about that blankness made the events of the previous night even more horrifically real.

I hurried up in the bathroom, eager to get away from the bloody towel which I somehow couldn't bring myself to launder just yet. Washing away that tangible reminder of the moment Eric and I had shared together would have been far more depressing than leaving it crumpled in a desolate heap on the counter.

I brewed a huge pot of coffee as I looked out into the backyard and saw the trailing tire tracks of the black SUV and seethed. I knew anger was a reaction which would ultimately hurt only myself, but the fiery emotion actually came as a relief when juxtaposed with the abject sadness I thought I would never escape.

"Fuckin' Freyda," I said out loud through gritted teeth. Gran certainly wouldn't approve of my language but in light of the circumstances I thought it only fitting. I was just pondering how many different ways I could decapitate the home-wrecking villain when I heard my cell phone ringing in the bedroom and plodded down the hall to pick it up.

"Hello?" I answered groggily.

"Sookie? Sookie, where are you?" a far-too-chipper voice greeted me on the other end and I took a moment to process the familiar tone.

"Kennedy? I'm at home, why?"

"You do know you're working the lunch shift today, don't ya?" She asked the question slowly as if she were talking to a kindergartener.

"Umm, yeah. I'll be there at 11, like always," I started to smell the coffee's fumes wafting into the bedroom and was just picturing myself stirring in the cream and sugar when the voice on the other end jolted me from my reverie.

"Sookie," now Kennedy sounded worried, "you were supposed to be here over an hour ago. It's uh…12:30."

I looked down at my bedside clock and saw she was right. _You've _got_ to be kidding me_, I thought gloomily to myself. This day was shaping up to be even worse than I had anticipated.

"Oh, shoot! I'm real sorry, Kennedy. I'll be there in a jiffy," I hung up the phone and began a frantic rush to gulp down some scorching hot coffee and throw on my work clothes. I laced up my sneakers and ran into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my hair when I was greeted by a hideous monster.

My hair was a bird's nest of frizz and tangles. My eyes held not bags, but suitcases underneath them and were so bloodshot it was a wonder I could still see. Sweet mercy, was everything going to go utterly wrong today? I hurriedly combed through the knots in my hair grimacing as my scalp cried out in protest. Just as I was trying to smooth out a very bumpy ponytail I saw the gash in my wrist reflected back at me in the mirror.

I felt the sadness of the divorce wound stab me all over again, but there was no time for concealing makeup or uneven ponytail readjustment. I grabbed my purse and hightailed out the door, silently cursing myself for not getting out of bed sooner.

* * *

X.

"Christ Almighty, Sookie. You look like hell, what on Earth happened to you?"

"It's nice to see you too, Kennedy," I responded quickly as I bypassed the bar to put my purse away and fasten an apron around my waist. I spared a moment to thank whatever lucky stars I still had remaining that Kennedy was working behind the bar and not Sam. Though I'm sure he'd had time to recuperate from his resurrection and the awkward encounter which ensued, I still wasn't jumping for joy at the prospect of working in close proximity to him.

The other waitress on duty was India and I glimpsed her scowling at me as she bounced from table to table, desperately trying to keep up. I did feel bad for leaving her high and dry, but better late than never, right?

"Hey India, which tables can I take off your hands?" I tried to be cheery even though I could sense the lack of sleep sounding a death rattle on me. India rolled her eyes in a subtle way which she thought I wouldn't notice.

"I just served drinks at 6, 7, and 8. They'll probably be ready to order soon," India's tone was agreeable enough but her thoughts said otherwise: _Course she's late. Staying up all night fangbanging vamps, she probably doesn't get much sleep._

"Beg your pardon?" I looked at India hurt and confused. She had always struck me as a nice girl—a little rough around the edges, sure—but certainly not malicious.

"I said tables 6, 7, and 8. Do you want a map?" She stalked off toward the kitchen. I had to remember that the terrible things I heard from her were only in her head. If there was ever a day I should keep my guard up, today was that day. Unfortunately, my sleep deprivation was sure to make that a difficult task.

As I walked toward table 6, occupied by two burly construction workers covered head to toe in a faint white dust, I heard a chorus of vile, disgusting thoughts:

_Look at those legs, mama come on over…Wonder what she looks like nekkid without that dumb apron…I would let her ride me like the Kentucky Derby..._

I shot them the extra wide grin I always used to conceal my telepathy as I spoke, "Hi, can I take your order?"

_You can take more than that, sweet thing,_ "I'll have the crawfish fritters with some hot sauce." He gave me what I'm sure he thought was a seductive wink but which only came across as ridiculous given the dust stuck in his eyebrows and beard.

"And I'll have a cheeseburger with fries. Extra mayo on that burger now, ya hear?" _Wish I could put some extra "mayo" on you, blondie_. This man was younger but even stockier than his companion and I had to try desperately to hide my revulsion with his thoughts.

"Coming right up!" My smile was locked into place as I walked off, more than eager to escape their lecherous gazes and minds.

Table 7 wasn't much better.

It was a four top of elderly women from the Descendants of the Glorious Dead and though they only wanted more sweet tea and some biscuits with gravy, their thoughts assaulted me in relentless waves:

_Poor Adele. If only she could see what her granddaughter has become—a fornicator with a fetish for fangers. Such a shame…Sookie used to be a nice girl. Now look at her, having premarital relations with dead men…What's that cut she's got on her wrist? Wonder if she's suicidal…She probably _would_ be better off dead rather than living her life in sin and making her Gran roll in her grave._

"I'll…I'll be right back with that sweet tea," I realized I had been frozen in place grinning stupidly down at them with my pen pressed motionlessly to the small pad of paper. I willed myself to concentrate, to block out the thoughts which would only serve to hurt me, but my exhaustion and the horrors of the previous night simply would not let that happen. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw who was sitting at table 8.

"Jason, Michele! You don't know how good it is to see you," though I had barely taken two orders I scooted into the booth next to my brother and relished the cool vinyl against my bare legs.

"Geez, Sook. You look dead on your feet, you okay?" His dark eyes showed genuine concern and I knew my brother meant well so I excused his abruptness.

"I'm fine, I just didn't get much sleep last night. What brings y'all to Merlotte's? I know it ain't the five-star cooking," Though I tried, my attempt at some self-deprecating humor crashed and burned. I could hear from both of their minds that they were concerned.

"We just wanted to talk to you about the wedding, I have some ideas to run past you," Michele's voice was warm but she talked with the slow deliberation of someone instructing an amateur how to diffuse a bomb. Suddenly, her thoughts began pouring in: _Poor girl, wonder what happened to her. She looks like she hasn't slept in days._

Jason chimed in almost simultaneously: _If that bloodsucker did something to hurt my sister I swear on Mama and Daddy's graves I'll…_

"Guys, I'm okay, just a little bit of insomnia, that's all," as I spoke I reached my hand up to try to smooth down the bumps in my ponytail. Jason noticed my wrist and his good natured countenance disappeared without warning. Grabbing my arm, my brother yanked me further into the booth, apparently shocked by the injury and determined to inspect it further.

"Jesus Christ, Sookie! What have you gone and done now?" I pulled my arm from his grasp, simultaneously upset by his viciousness and the unnecessary attention called to my divorce. All I wanted to do was crumple into a ball beneath the table and never come out.

"That is none of your business, Jason Stackhouse," I snapped back at him. Michele just sat silently, looking deeply saddened. What had started out as a bad day was fast becoming a terrible nightmare. I heard the bell in the kitchen ring to alert me that the construction workers' order was ready. I stormed away from my brother and soon to be sister-in-law's table, relieved to have an easy escape.

Picking up the crawfish fritters and burger I attempted to secure a smile on my face as I approached table 6 but the lustful gazes of the two men were too nauseating to ignore. I set the food down quickly and turned to walk off but I heard a gruff voice call me back:

"We need two Miller Tall Boys, ma'am," One of them said with a dumb smirk on his face. His thoughts followed close behind: _What the hell's wrong with this broad? She must really be a freak like they all say_. I smiled back to let them know I'd heard their order and obediently went to the bar.

"Bad day?" Kennedy asked shortly when I approached.

"You have no idea," I responded miserably.

"It happens to the best of us," she said in a motherly tone. I looked back at Jason and Michele's table and saw that they had left.

The rest of the day continued on in a similar vein. I "accidentally" spilled a Diet Coke on a member of the road crew when I heard him thinking about slapping my butt. I conveniently forgot to bring a church usher some ranch dressing for his hot wings after I read his mind and found he considered me to be a godless heathen for "carrying on with vampires".

I was constantly reminded why I work so hard to block out the barrage of voices—people are unforgivably cruel. Being a telepath could really reveal humanity's hatefulness. Yet the more the day dragged on, the more tired I became and the more people's innermost thoughts assaulted me.

When Holly finally came in to relieve me I almost mistook her for an angel, wings and all. I quickly indicated which tables were mine and what they needed before scurrying to the back to retrieve my purse and get the hell out of dodge.

* * *

XI.

When I got home, I heated up a pathetically meager dinner of frozen chicken nuggets in the microwave and sat on the couch watching Jeopardy reruns. Today had been horrible. Beyond horrible. And it wasn't even 6 o'clock. Though I hated the sentiment, a small part of me held out hope that Eric would return come nightfall. The sky was steadily darkening and I kept glancing anxiously at the time beneath the television, willing myself to believe that it was possible for Eric to defy all odds and come back to me.

My eyes glazed over, dried out and red, as I pictured him swooping down from the heavens and gliding into the house through the front door. He would stand perched beneath the frame, his towering figure imposing but somehow gentle. Then Eric would walk slowly over to me, scooping me up into his arms to lay me on the bed and take me away from the terrible pain in my soul.

Right on schedule, there came three soft knocks at the door and I leaped off the couch with all the vigor of a Jack-in-the-Box. The plate of chicken nuggets and crumbs spilled to the ground along with the honey mustard sauce I had spread over them, but I couldn't be bothered worrying about the mess. My pulse began racing and tears of happiness fell as I rushed to the door and swung it open, so assured I would be met by the pale yet handsome face of Eric Northman.

Disappointment washed over me as I saw Mr. Cataliades standing in the doorway wearing a dignified navy suit.

"My dear, what is wrong?" the demon lawyer looked genuinely concerned and I had to take a moment of self-reflection to assess my appearance: my hair was still somewhat tangled with a definitive dent in it from the ponytail holder, the dark circles under my eyes had no doubt grown exponentially since the afternoon when I had last looked in a mirror, and glancing down at my work uniform (I hadn't had the strength to change), I saw streaks of yellow sauce from my mishap with the plate of nuggets. Is this what rock bottom looked like?

"Mr. Cataliades, please come in. I've just had a hard go of things lately, but I'm okay."

I noticed Mr. Cataliades eyeing my newly fallen tears suspiciously and I hurriedly moved to wipe them away as I shut the door in his wake. Those had been tears of joy, damn it.

"I noticed your name as some paperwork was moving through the channels my office oversees," Mr. Cataliades began slowly, sitting in an armchair. "Your vampire husband has filed for divorce."

"Yeah, that happened." Was there no escape from the torment? If Mr. Cataliades noticed the aloofness in my voice he didn't let on.

"I'm terribly sorry, dear. As a lawyer, I thought you should know you may have certain entitlements to Mr. Northman's estate."

"Entitlements? What do you mean like the bar, Fangtasia?" Even if I did want some sort of recompense for my marriage, I didn't think a vampire bar in Shreveport would have filled the Viking-sized hole in my heart.

"Oh, heavens no! Vampire-human marriages do not recognize that kind of dominion over a spouse's assets. What I mean is a sort of quid pro quo. The entire matrimony was based on blood and yours has been shed despite your faithfulness to Mr. Northman. If it is your wish, I may file a motion for alimony," Mr. Cataliades plunged into this monologue of legal jargon and I felt a headache blossoming as each new alien term was spoken.

"Mr. Cataliades…"

"Desmond, please. Call me Desmond."

"Desmond, I'm real appreciative of your concern for me and all, but it's not my intention to get any money out of Eric. The only reason he divorced me is because he's now contracted to marry the Queen of Oklahoma," speaking about the evil troll and her manipulation stoked the fire underneath me all over again.

"A Queen? Oh, my," the demon lawyer looked pensive at this news. I wondered if maybe he could somehow use his legal know-how to magically halt the union and to perhaps kill Freyda in the process? Preferably via a slow and painful death? After all, they didn't call lawyers "bloodsuckers" for nothing.

"No, that's not really what I do. If it is a royal marriage with a binding contract nothing short of a miracle would stop that," Mr. Cataliades looked grave at delivering what he presumed would be earth shattering news to me, but something to the tune of "Heard it All Before" began playing in my head. However, just to sate my curiosity, I inquired further.

"Now by "miracle" you mean…"

"If she were to meet the true death, of course," The lawyer spoke quickly, matter-of-factly, and I was understandably crushed. Eric had tried to stake Freyda last night but her loyal band of minions waiting silently ensconced in the woods had been a bit of a buzz kill. I was starting to grow weary of the endless stream of bad news when Mr. Cataliades spoke again:

"Or, I suppose, if there was some sort of political uprising in her kingdom—an insurgency for instance—that would potentially dethrone her and negate her sovereignty," a tiny glimmer of hope reignited in my chest at these words. "But the likelihood of that is slim. By all accounts she is a decent Queen whose subjects are more than happy to oblige her."

The faint glimmer was extinguished faster than a waning camp fire in a monsoon. Mr. Cataliades rose to leave at that moment and I got up to see him out the door.

"Thank you for all of your help. I really do appreciate it," I said these words on autopilot, so overwhelmed by the injustice on the horizon I could barely think straight.

"Of course, Sookie. I understand this may be a difficult time for you. Please call me if you need anything," Mr. Cataliades then leaned in to give me a hug and though his demon otherness rendered a mild discomfort I was still glad he cared.

Once the lawyer left I journeyed back into the kitchen, not content to continue watching the happy people on the spirited game show. I checked in the cabinet over the sink and found exactly what I was looking for. I then opened the fridge: no cranberry juice, but I still had an abundance of OJ.

I poured a tall glass half full of the vodka I had extracted from my cabinet and filled the other half with orange juice.

"Cheers," I said solemnly. And then I began to drink.

* * *

XII.

Once I had polished off my third screwdriver I was, to my relief, starting to feel surprisingly_ good_. Well, numb. But numbness is a welcome alternative when contrasted with the bleakness of melancholy. I set to work pouring another drink without pause. The day had been such a misery that I actually took solace in intoxication and my cares and worries began to rapidly diminish with each additional swig of the tumbler.

I turned on the radio which sat in arm's reach on the countertop and sang loudly (and terribly) to a vapid pop song. I didn't know half of the words and mumbled and gargled through the verses; the display would have made even Britney Spears cringe. I scooted out of my chair so forcefully that it actually tipped over onto the kitchen floor as I shimmied my way into the living room. Still dancing and singing like a fool, I noted the honey mustard sauce settling into the carpet and the sight actually prompted me into a childish giggle fit.

After a truly awful dance number and some more off-key harmonizing, the radio announcer's voice signaled a commercial break and I started back to the kitchen to take another huge gulp of the screwdriver. The warmth of the alcohol and the dizzying effects it garnered were fast turning me into an obnoxious spectacle of shameless self-indulgence. How curious it is that at first taste alcohol will make one grimace and shudder but once inebriation has set in the burn becomes a welcome one. I was thinking about how far beyond the legal blood alcohol limit I was when a grating series of knocks sounded on the back door.

Given the less than favorable string of visitors a previous series of knocks on my back door had announced just recently, I should have sat bolt upright at the sound, listening intently with _all_ my senses for any indication of danger. I should have gone to the front closet to extract my shotgun. I should have, at the very least, peeked through the window first to see who it was. But, not having a very clearly defined grasp on reality given my departure from sobriety, I rose nonchalantly from my chair and swung the door open while still holding my fourth screwdriver.

"Sookie, you look, ahem, ravishing."

Pam was standing in the moonlight exhibiting her very particular brand of sarcasm. Dressed to the nines in a white pantsuit with a lavender cardigan and matching pumps, she put my sullied work uniform to shame. Her hair was beautifully arranged in an elegant chignon and I envied her impeccable makeup application. If I hadn't been knee deep in cheap vodka I probably would have politely complimented Eric's progeny and inquired as to the purpose of her visit, but the sounds which emitted from my mouth were slightly less articulate than a Neanderthal's grunts.

"Heyyyy, Pahhm. Looka GREAT!" I moved to give her an overenthusiastic hug but Pam stepped aside at vamp speed, leaving me stupidly grasping at air.

"What the hell is going on? Eric divorces you one night ago and you're already getting tipsy at home? _Alone_? Sookie, this is sad. Even for you."

I was about three and a half drinks past tipsy, but I didn't bother correcting her. In fact, I now found Pam's deadpan tone utterly hilarious and wild laughter consumed me as I retreated back into the kitchen, spiritedly waving her to follow.

"You wanna screwdriver? I got PLENTY!" I seemed to have completely forgotten that Pam was a vampire and as such only drank blood or some synthetic blood beverage. The power of alcohol is truly amazing.

"You're drinking vodka out of a _plastic_ bottle?" Pam's eyebrow arched as she examined my poison of choice.

"It's Popov!"

"Classy."

I started toward the refrigerator to get the orange juice but Pam's cold hand stopped me just as I began to open the door.

"It has been more than a century since I've even tasted alcohol but I can tell just by the smell of you that you're way beyond your limit," Pam's voice was growing colder and I should have sensed her increasing irritation but one of the many joyful effects of alcohol is obliviousness. All I could manage to do was smile sweetly at her and step away from the fridge with an awkward curtsey-like maneuver.

"What in God's name is that infernal sound?" Pam scoffed in annoyance. The Dixie Chicks were now crooning on the radio and as my ears perked up I grabbed Pam by the wrists, suddenly excited by the prospect.

"Oh, you wanna dance? Let's DANCE!" I tried to spin her around but was brutally rebuffed by the click of her fangs emerging as she looked daggers at me.

"Sookie, you better get it together post-haste. The drunken college girl act is starting to wear on my nerves," Pam snarled at me and her white fangs gleamed under the fluorescence of the kitchen lights. She sauntered over to the radio and flicked the off switch dramatically. "I didn't come here to join in on your pity party. I need to talk to you. About Eric."

The mention of his name jolted enough reason into me to fight through my intoxication and formulate a coherent sentence.

"Eric is…gone." It may not have been my most eloquent statement but at least I wasn't offering screwdrivers to a vampire anymore.

"No shit," Pam's eyes were narrowing on me and I sensed her patience growing thin. I gave myself an internal pep talk to wade through the cloying waves of drunkenness before trying to process her next statement.

"Felipe de Castro and that Freyda bitch came to Fangtasia last night absolutely livid. They're now talking about the need to draw up a new contract for the royal wedding," Pam continued on, sensing that I'd finally regained focus. "I imagine the sudden necessity was born out of Freyda catching a certain Viking sheriff in bed with a certain telepathic waitress?"

Uh-oh. I knew where this was going.

"Yes, Eric was here last night but it wasn't our fault she saw us together. She was snooping through my window like a middle-aged peeping Tom," I pleaded with Pam, hoping she wouldn't hold me wholly accountable for the terrible turn of events. Unfortunately her demeanor remained icy and I could tell she was placing some of the blame on me, even though Eric had arrived at my house of his own free will. When I spoke again it was in a small voice:

"Well, who cares if they're making a new contract? It can't be any worse than the previous contract…"

"Actually, it can," Pam's tone was level and emotionless, but did I sense some underlying pain in it? "The problem is the King has decided he trusts me even less than he trusts Eric. I was supposed to take over as sheriff of Area 5 but in light of these new circumstances Felipe is bringing in one of his sycophants from Nevada to take Eric's place instead."

"Oh my gosh, Pam. I am so, so sorry," I moved to place a comforting arm around her shoulder but she flinched and backed away.

"It's nothing personal, Sookie. You just smell like a Floridian AA meeting gone awry."

"Right, sorry. Have you at least talked to Eric about this? Maybe he can negotiate a better position for you?"

"There is no negotiating with a King who's suspicious of you or a Queen who has just been wronged. Felipe is still pissed about Victor going missing and Freyda has been keeping Eric smothered under her wretched little thumb. I can scarcely get a moment alone with him. But the feelings of hopelessness and regret I've gathered from him, they're…awful," for the first time Pam looked genuinely sad. I wasn't the only one who stood to lose something from this untimely marriage.

"Well we've at least got to see what's on that contract—the wedding is less than a month away!"

"I agree. All sorts of stipulations had been made to protect you in Eric's absence, but now that Freyda witnessed Eric breaking one of his contractual obligations, she practically has free reign to outline a completely new set of demands."

I felt a golf ball-sized lump appear in my throat and I struggled to swallow it. Eric had been making arrangements to ensure my safety in case he was unable to stay, but now that the old contract was basically void who knew what kind of horrors Freyda was planning to exact upon me? I felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety and that coupled with about three too many drinks prompted me to hastily sit down in one of the wooden chairs at the table.

Pam sat across from me and her voice was notably softer as she said, "Sookie, you may be in grave danger. It is imperative we find out what's on that contract," I felt the seriousness in her voice and my fear began rising rapidly.

"Why does she want Eric so bad? She's a queen! Eric doesn't even _like _her and I'm sure she has other suitors."

"I'm not privy to her secret desires or her incredibly ridiculous reasons but I do know this: she was pissed last night. Seeing you with her beau ignited some sort of rage inside her. The more Eric resists her, the more badly she wants him."

"Huh?"

"I know. For a Queen, she's incredibly stupid." Pam still maintained her desert dry humor but there was something forlorn about her. I rarely ever saw her look anything besides mildly perturbed or extremely perturbed. I dare say depressed and mournful didn't exactly suit her. I had to do something.

"When are they drawing up the new contract, Pam? I can go there, I can find out what's on it!" I wasn't even remotely sure infiltrating a vampire meeting was within my power, but I said this with as much grit and determination as I could muster. Perhaps delusions of grandeur were another side effect of heavy drinking?

"From what I was able to gather from their impromptu club crashing last night, I believe Felipe and Freyda are going to be back at Fantasia tomorrow at 1am to outline a new document."

"I need to be there!"

"No, you don't. You are Eric's ex-wife. The only purpose your presence would serve is to exacerbate the situation further and make Felipe want to drain you even more than he already does." I remembered Felipe eyeing me carnivorously when he smelled my blood dripping onto the floorboards of the back porch and a shiver passed through my body unpleasantly. "He kept going on and on about how delicious you must be, he could barely keep his fangs in his mouth."

"Ew," even when they've been dead for hundreds of years some men were still dogs. "So if Felipe doesn't trust you to attend the meeting and I'm not welcome on account of the divorce and the bloodlust then how will we know what the new contract says?"

"We won't," Pam frowned grimly, "I'll have to think of a way to get Eric away from Freyda and find out what happened after the fact."

"Well, that doesn't sound very promising…"

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Pam's voice was glacial and her eyes seemed to stare bullet holes into me. "I only came here to tell you out of courtesy to Eric," Pam now rose from her chair and smoothed down her fancy white pants with her French-manicured hands. "Get some rest, Sookie. And stay away from cheap liquor. You know you're better than that."

And just like that, Pam vanished out of the door in a flash too quick to be processed by my human vision. Once again, I was alone.

* * *

XIII.

Sleep came quickly that night but was marred with terrible dreams which roused me from my slumber in a sheet-soaking sweat. In one instance, Eric embraced me lovingly as we lay on a bed of roses but when he leaned in to kiss me his face grotesquely transformed into that of Freyda's. Her fangs emerged and she struck like a serpent, hell bent on draining me dry before my breath caught in my throat and I was awakened.

In another dream, I found myself frolicking through a field of sunflowers so tall the shortest ones reached my shoulder blades. I spun around in circles merrily, taking in their wonderful aroma but as I bent a stalk to smell one, insects began falling out of the seed head and rained down upon me in torrents. Suddenly darkness fell and I was surrounded by gun wielding, thirsty vampires dressed in black suits. I woke up in my own bed kicking and screaming with a cold sweat running down my back.

I ran to the bathroom and vomited, actually relieved to be ridding myself of some of the alcohol. After this episode, I got back into bed and tried futilely to fall asleep again. I kept thinking of Pam and the melancholy that had clouded her usually impassive face. I thought of Freyda writing some awful new contractual terms down with an evil grin, contractual terms which I may never even know. There had to be _something_ I could do…

Finally, an idea smacked me in the head so hard it might as well have knocked me unconscious.

"Yes, of course!" My voice echoed as I spoke aloud to my empty bedroom. It was so supremely simple it was brilliant. I just needed to do a little coaxing and then it would be golden. I made some calculations in my head then clapped my hands together victoriously as I realized it really could work, should work, _had_ to work.

With the blessing of an actual plan, relief washed steadily over me and I had only to execute some preliminary tactics to begin the first phase of what I now dubbed Operation: Free Eric Northman. No longer would I lie down and concede defeat. I was tired of crying, tired of feeling sorry for myself, and most of all, tired of constantly worrying if the next knock on my door would be a harbinger of my death.

What would Gran say if she saw me weakened by cowardice and fear? Bullied by monstrous villains? Crouched in a darkened corner as my one true love had a brutal fate dished out to him? The humble Stackhouse home on Hummingbird Road had become a pit stop for every murderous supernatural in the great state of Louisiana. I and I alone controlled my destiny, and it was high time to take the reins.

The Queen might want to draw up some malicious contract to make me suffer but I didn't have to let that go down without a fight. Some danger would be inherent, yes. But what would my life be but a sad sham if I didn't go to war for my own happiness? That is a pathetic excuse for a life—a life of regret and fruitless yearnings. If I was going to die, I'd rather it happen while I was standing on my own two feet than cowering on my knees in defeat.

"All right, Freyda. You're on," I spoke quietly but forcefully and then delved into the dreamless abyss of deep sleep free of nightmares, tears, or fears. In my own determination I had finally found rest for the first time in days.

* * *

XIV.

The next morning when I rose I had a slight hangover but also a concrete purpose. I was supremely relieved to have actually had a relatively uninterrupted night of sleep. My body thanked me for it in addition to thanking me for my late night expulsion of the surplus of alcohol.

I prepared a quick breakfast and made a strong pot of coffee (the orange juice in the fridge now looked decidedly unappealing). After cleaning up the crumbs and sauce from the living room carpet, I ventured into the bathroom and took the bloody towel to the washer. There was no need to brood on mementos now that I was sure I would see Eric again.

I was working the night shift and the bar wouldn't officially open for lunch for another hour but I hopped in my car and journeyed straight to Merlotte's, intent on talking to Sam. On the short ride there I went over my game plan, trying to pinpoint the best angle to appeal to him. It hardly occurred to me that the last time we had seen each other had been riddled with awkwardness.

I pulled around back and parked next to Sam's trailer, taking a brief moment to admire the sun in the sky and the brisk Louisiana breeze as I walked toward the door. I knocked gently and Sam's eyes lit up when he opened it.

"Hey, Sookie. Good to see you," he had on Levis and a flannel shirt which he had failed to button up and I saw his bare chest bore the same reddish hair he had on his head. He moved to hug me and I returned his embrace, the skin-to-skin contact clarifying many of his shifter thoughts:

_She looks so pretty…thought she was still mad at me for trying to kiss her…wish I could do that over again, I would do it all different…mmm she smells like oranges…_

"Hi, Sam. It's good to see you too. I hate to burst in on you early in the morning like this but I really need to talk to you, it's important," I hoped my earnest tone of voice would signal the significance of the visit but from Sam's thoughts I gathered that he was interpreting my arrival in an entirely different way:

_I knew she would come back to me…gosh, I've been waiting for this for so long…_

"Of course, come on in. It's really no problem I was just making some cheese grits, do you want me to fix you a plate?" Sam was being extra hospitable and I felt the incessant tug of guilt on my conscience as I realized I was about to burst his hopeful bubble like an overfilled water balloon.

"No thanks, I just ate breakfast," I replied kindly as I stepped inside his humble trailer and took a seat on the old yet comfortable couch. He closed the door behind me and moved to the kitchen to scoop out the grits from a steaming pot. He spread some margarine onto two dark brown pieces of toast on his plate and then joined me on the couch. I spared a second to admire his simplicity before I began.

"Sam, I really need your help. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't extremely important, you know that," I started slowly, hoping to first get him to agree before he knew exactly what was required of him. I didn't mean to be subversive, but if I couldn't get him to help me I wasn't sure where else I could turn.

"Sookie," Sam placed his plate of toast and grits on the coffee table before he continued, "you hardly have to ask. I owe you my _life_ for God's sake. Whatever you need, I'm here for you," he was looking deep into my eyes as he spoke and he placed his hand on my knee, rubbing gently.

More thoughts came flooding in with this added contact and I had to concentrate to halt them in their tracks. For a shifter, he was broadcasting mighty clear.

"Well, Sam," I took a deep breath, knowing I was about to shatter his initial perception of my impromptu visit, "it's about Eric. He's kinda been, um, kidnapped into an arranged marriage with the vampire Queen of Oklahoma," as I was speaking I saw a dark cloud sail over Sam's friendly face and he hurriedly took his hand away from my knee, running it through his hair and exhaling sharply as he did so.

"Jesus, when are you going to realize that vamp problems aren't _your_ problems?" his voice had become brusque and though I felt the guilt washing over me, I knew I would have to fight to convince him.

"It _is_ my problem when it concerns someone I care about. There's nothing I wouldn't do to help Eric. It's not about vampires and humans, it's about right and wrong," I was looking at Sam intently, trying to find his eyes but he was staring off into space. I sensed his anger rising and I tried to turn his head toward me by taking his cheek in my hand when he spotted the cut on my wrist, currently in the early stages of scabbing over.

"Christ Almighty, Sookie! What happened?" I picked up from his thoughts that he suspected a vampire was to blame and I decided to bend the truth only slightly in confirming his theories.

"It was the Queen's doing, the one who's trying to take Eric. Her and the vampire King of Louisiana forced some ritualistic divorce upon us and this was the result," I indicated my wrist and secretly prayed for Sam not to inquire who the actual one wielding the knife had been.

"When are you going to stop letting yourself be a punching bag for vampires? When are you going to realize that all they really want to do is use you for your blood?" Sam's face now held desperation and I felt I was losing him as we slid down this slippery slope.

"Eric is not out to use me for my blood, he loves me. And I know you have enough compassion in you to realize I love him too."

At these words Sam flinched like he had been stung by a wasp. The energy in the trailer was quickly diminishing from hopeful to hateful. For all my planning I never anticipated a reaction like this. I knew Sam would be hesitant to agree to help me if it meant helping Eric too but I never realized he would become so enraged before I even had a chance to really outline what I was asking of him.

Perhaps I underestimated the strength of his feelings for me. I figured his misplaced attempt to kiss me could be attributed to some lingering effects of the cluviel dor, something we would both laugh about later. I saw now that Sam's intentions had been heartfelt and I struggled to continue my appeal for his help.

"I didn't come here to hurt you. I came here because you're my best friend and I need your help. You told me after I saved your life that you wished there was some way to repay me. Here it is." I emphasized each word when I spoke, trying to impart on Sam the importance of what I was asking him. His thoughts were now in cryptic tangles and I felt it was unfair to pry into them any further than I already had.

He continued to sit motionless, staring straight ahead apparently deep in thought, his breakfast growing colder. The tension was palpable and the silence was deafening. I finally stood up, obviously defeated, and started for the door but something within me refused to give up. I looked back at him, now sitting so lonely on the couch.

"Please, Sam. I need you."

He didn't speak again. Could this be what our friendship had come to? I turned towards the door with my head hung low. Just as I placed my hand on the knob I heard his voice sound off:

"Well, what are you waiting for? Tell me what I need to do."

A huge smile spread across my face as I rushed back to the couch to give him a grateful hug around his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!"

"All right, easy now, watch the grits," Sam said good-naturedly as he accepted my spirited embrace. I felt his warmth and hoped I could somehow transmit how truly appreciative I was to him.

He ate his breakfast quietly as I detailed the plan, pausing only when he returned to the kitchen to refill his plate. Operation: Free Eric Northman was now in full effect.

* * *

XV.

That night at work was one of the slowest nights of my life. It wasn't for lack of business—Merlotte's was booming with customers. Every time I cleared a table I heard the door chime anew and another group of hungry patrons would enter the bar. It was slow for a much different reason: the anticipation of what was to come, what Sam and I were about to do, made the clock hands move slow as molasses and the seconds tick by agonizingly.

Each time I caught Sam's eye or passed behind him as he stood at the bar I sensed his nerves clear as if they were tattooed across his forehead. Though his manliness wouldn't allow him to admit it, I knew he was scared. I was scared too. The further into the vampire world I delved the more vicious and uncompromising they became. Now I was purposely thrusting not only myself but my friend directly into their warpath and I could only pray that all would go according to the plan.

At least my anxiety wasn't due to inadequate preparation. I had spent all afternoon getting ready. I procured a long black wig from the depths of my closet leftover from a Halloween many moons ago when I was Elivra. I visited Tara at her clothing boutique and picked out a risqué red corset and tight black skirt combination I thought very befitting of the occasion. Afterwards, I went to a specialty shop at the mall in Monroe and bought some black nail polish and lipstick, a spiked dog collar, and some thigh-high patent leather boots that were almost as cringe worthy as the amount of money I paid for them.

Finally, the grueling shift came to an end and closing time was upon us. Sam and I rushed the other employees to complete their duties so that we could leave the bar as soon as possible. I was thankful it was a weeknight and that Merlotte's closed early enough for us to make it to Shreveport before 1am. I changed hastily in Sam's trailer as he was locking up the bar and met him at his truck (taking my car would have been too conspicuous).

"You're looking very…gothic," Sam grinned as he saw me waiting on the passenger side of his old Chevy. I had already painted my nails the matte black color before work but now coupled with the long wig, the overtly sexual ensemble, the lace-up, high heeled boots, and copious amounts of dark, smudged eyeliner and black lipstick I thought the disguise was complete.

"Oh, shoot! I almost forgot," I ran back to my car and fished out the spiked leather dog collar from a plastic bag. Tightening the clasp around my neck as I jumped into Sam's truck I heard him let out a playful chuckle.

"Nice touch," he winked at me and we began the drive to Shreveport.

Though I had made the journey more than my fair share of times, every mile seemed to drag on and I kept nervously asking Sam for the time, worried that we wouldn't make it. He patiently reassured me:

"We'll be fine. We're already more than halfway. You don't have a watch?"

"Fangbangers don't wear watches, Sam. Didn't you know?" I tried to make light of the situation but Sam remained stern.

"Your disguise is pretty thorough, but I'm telling you right now you still smell like sweet, good-hearted Sookie. Don't let the Queen or King get too close, they'll sniff you out like bloodhounds."

I didn't even want to think of the accuracy of that comparison.

"I know. I'll be in and out, promise. All I need to do is find Eric or Pam, let them know the plan, and figure out where the meeting is being held. My guess is Eric's office but there are plenty of other places where it could be. Pam's been blacklisted so they might hold it in the underground basement area to avoid her overhearing anything," the mention of a secret subterranean vampire lair made Sam swallow audibly and I placed a comforting hand on his forearm.

As we took the exit for Shreveport I picked up my cell and scrolled through the contacts to dial Pam's number. It rang and rang to no avail. I pressed the end button and clamped the phone shut perhaps more forcefully than was necessary. I hadn't really been expecting her to pick up—she was probably busy taking drink orders or checking ID's at the door. I prayed for the latter, I didn't want a surly vampire doorman studying my driver's license and asking why I had dyed my hair from blond to black.

When we finally pulled up to the strip mall that housed Fangtasia my heart started beating erratically as the full danger of what was about to happen began to set in. The urge to tell Sam to turn his truck around and drive straight back to Bon Temps crossed my mind, but I quickly chastised myself for this cowardice and refocused on the task at hand.

He parked in one of the end rows and I was relieved to see that the lot was densely populated for a weeknight. Good, it would be far easier to blend in with more people inside. Sam cut off the engine and I looked at his face, so full of dismay and reluctance. I asked him what time it was, hoping the mundane question would quell some of his nerves.

"It's 12:30, we're right on time," Sam grinned casually but the smile didn't spread to his eyes.

"Just wait for me here, I shouldn't be longer than fifteen minutes," I said hurriedly as I checked my appearance in the small fold down mirror over my seat. My lips were still a creamy black color and my eyes looked depressingly somber with all the eyeliner. I checked that the wig was on securely and with that final assurance I opened the door and hopped out. Sam gave me one last admonishment:

"Sookie, please be careful."

"I always am," I said with as much lightheartedness as I could muster. I then shut the door and quickly began walking towards the entrance, my gait growing braver with each additional step.

* * *

XVI.

Something remarkable happened as I made it about halfway through the parking lot: a wave of comfort spread over me like a child's security blanket and I suddenly felt greatly at ease. As I got closer the feeling increased exponentially and I had no more fear or aversion to going inside the club—how ludicrous those prior sentiments now seemed! On the contrary, I now felt an irrepressible, almost blinding urge to enter Fangtasia. The eagerness was so immense that I literally had to stop myself from full on running to the door and attracting unnecessary attention. It was like some kind of magnetic pull have overtaken me, and finally, realization dawned: _the blood bond_.

I could feel Eric's presence inside the nightclub and I'm sure he could feel mine closing in rapidly. Our blood yearned, _demanded_ to be reunited and as I stood in line to gain access the desire pulsating through me built up to a fever pitch. My anticipation was almost too much to bear. I would see him again; sure as the sun would rise tomorrow morning I would see Eric again.

I counted less than five heads in front of me and I pulled my ID out of my tiny clutch purse to be ready. I had guessed that Pam would be at the door but there was a tall, burly, black vampire checking ID's instead. _Great_, I thought to myself, but even that slight roadblock couldn't distract me from the wonderful feelings of complacence I was now experiencing being so near to Eric.

"Next," the doorman muttered in a disinterested way to indicate it was my turn to step up and present my ID. I complied immediately. Up close the vampire looked incredibly fierce. He was well over six feet tall with the intimidating musculature of a seasoned bodybuilder. His skin was smooth and dark as ebony and he had two blindingly flashy diamonds in each ear. His hair was cut painstakingly close to the scalp and his eyes were an almond-shaped dark brown.

I looked up after I had finished studying him and horror dawned on me as realized he was not checking my ID but was instead staring at me intently, completely motionless. I privately scolded myself for dressing so provocatively but it wasn't my exposed skin that had incited his interest.

"Well, well, well. Don't you smell sweet. What brings you to Fantasia tonight, sugar?" Far from the disinterest exhibited just seconds ago, his voice now sounded rich and deep with a distant accent I couldn't quite place. The blood bond had hit its zenith—Eric was amazingly close now and I could barely concentrate on answering the doorman's probing question.

"Just, umm, looking to get drunk and find a nice vampire man to sink his fangs into me! You know, typical Tuesday night!" It was actually Wednesday morning and I sounded way too vivacious to suit my gothic appearance but Eric's proximity was making my blood pump wildly and I couldn't help my excitement.

"You need not look any further," the dark skinned vampire said hungrily as he leaned in close, "my name's Jackson, and I'd be happy to make _all _your dreams come true tonight."

I jumped as his fangs emerged with a sharp _click _and he smiled broadly, obviously pleased with my reaction. He inhaled my scent ravenously and I felt an inkling of fear prickling up in my chest.

"Something about you is so mouthwatering, sugar. If somebody told me they made 'em like this in Louisiana I would have visited a long time ago…" I could tell he was becoming aroused and the patrons in line behind me started backing up inadvertently, perhaps sensing something was amiss. Overcome with my anticipation to see Eric and my steadily growing fear I all but froze up, racking my brain desperately for a plan to circumvent this unforeseen obstacle.

Just then, the black double doors of the club burst open and there stood Eric, his golden blond hair gleaming in the glow of the lights and his pale blue eyes leering icily at the lecherous doorman. Though it had barely been two days since I'd last been in his presence his perfection hit me like a ton of bricks, making me stagger uneasily in my high heeled boots.

My blood coursed through my veins feverishly, fully awakened at the prospect of reuniting with the other half of the bond. He looked glorious in a simple white v-neck t-shirt and dark slacks. All I wanted to do was run towards him, hug him, kiss him, but he sent me a strong warning to stay put and I obeyed without a word.

"Only on the job for a couple hours and already lusting after some poor girl," Eric's voice was smooth as butter, "Maybe you're not cut out for this position after all?"

"I'll be a better sheriff than you, Viking," Jackson struck back with snakelike quickness and with his words a critical piece fell into place. He must be the new sheriff who was taking over Area 5 instead of Pam; he was Felipe's new man brought in from Nevada. I glimpsed my ID still clutched in his left hand and prayed he hadn't read the name before becoming distracted by my smell.

"How can you be a better sheriff than me when you're already failing miserably as a doorman?" Eric smirked in his characteristic way as he said this and I had to stifle a laugh as he continued, "How many years do you have until you reach my age, Jackson? About 800? I'll check back on you then, hopefully you will have made some progress."

Jackson growled menacingly at this slight to his ego but he handed back my ID without any further protest and waved me inside. Eric held open one of the double doors and I walked slowly forward, trying to contain myself despite the building electricity reaching its crescendo. I dipped underneath his arm to step inside and sparks flew out where my shoulder gently grazed his chest. The door definitively as Eric followed me inside and we were both plunged into the darkened club with the music pounding.

* * *

**Author's Note: To all who have read this story, followed it, favorited it, and commented on it: THANK YOU! Your kind words of encouragement are truly inspirational and mean a great deal to me. Part 3 will not disappoint so please stay tuned and Happy Halloween ^_^**

**- Peach **


	3. Chapter 3

XVII.

Fangtasia was crowded and smoky; the black and red décor gave off an ominously morbid vibe. I turned to look up into Eric's handsome face but he had vanished. Aggressive rock music played unceasingly over the sound system as I whipped around searching for him, but I saw not even a trace of his golden hair. A young twenty-something bumped into me unceremoniously and assaulted me with his thoughts:

_She's hot. Too bad she's not a vamp, I'd let her suck me dry._

I ignored his pathetic desperation and strode a few steps to the left of the door. Where had Eric gone? My blood raced through me, ignited by his closeness and I thought I may very well go insane if I didn't get to see him again, touch him again. Even just a chance brush of my shoulder upon his chest as I stepped in the door had galvanized a flurry of energy. I'd never experienced such an amazing sensation.

Just as I was starting to become frantic I felt a cold hand grasp mine and flares of magnetism shot up my entire arm and made my blood vessels dance. Eric was whisking me through the club so quickly I barely knew what was happening. All I could do was follow behind his broad back as he led me, the touch of his hand on mine inspiring a frenzy of static within my body.

I caught snatches of thoughts, heard snippets of conversation, but before I could process anything I found myself standing against the wall in Eric's dimly lit office with his strong hands resting lightly on my shoulders, sending waves of comfort into my bloodstream.

"My lover," he breathed heavily into my ear and wasted no time in hugging me tight, his embrace spawning an overwhelming influx of emotion. Our blood cried out in pleasure at being reunited. We were whole again.

"I am so sorry to leave you as I did the other night," Eric said quietly into my ear, refusing to let me go, "but why have you come? It isn't safe for you here," he pulled away and I leaned against the wall for support, still dumbfounded by the astonishing power of his touch. His eyes bore into mine eagerly and I knew that my proximity was rendering the same effect on him as his was on me. I had missed him so deeply that I now felt paralyzed by his presence. I stuttered idiotically when next I spoke:

"I-I-um, needed to find out about the new contract," I had almost forgotten the purpose of my visit as I was so completely flooded by Eric's wonderful essence. The newly re-forged bond added an intricate layer to our intimacy; just his mere gaze now brought waves of passion crashing down upon me.

"In over a thousand years I never thought I would see such bravery, yet here you are standing before me," Eric spoke slowly, soothingly, and then he kissed my cheek—the touch of his lips prompting a delightful fervor which spread all the way down to my toes. The ensuing weakness in my knees would have brought me to the floor had he not had the foresight to hold me up.

Eric ran his hands down my shoulders and onto my cleavage still staring deeply into my eyes. His fangs emerged instantly as he fully took in the sight of me, reaching out to touch and memorize every curve of my body. He then grabbed my hand and turned over my wrist, wincing at the faint sight of the gash he had inflicted.

"Please. Please forgive me," I had never seen such distress in his clear blue eyes before and the vision was horribly unsettling. Without another word he brought his index finger to his now descended fangs and poked, using the rising droplets of blood to heal my wound. I reached my free hand up to his face and brushed it against his cold cheek. His skin was cleanly shaven and touching him inspired bands of joy to throb at my fingertips.

"Forgiving you is easy," I said calmly. Eric's expression turned softer and I sensed his relief at my words. Still, I had to ask, "Why did you disappear when we walked in the club?"

"I was checking for the King and Queen, making sure the coast was clear for you. Freyda has brought her lawyers to oversee the rewriting of the contract. They're all setting up in the basement where it's less noisy. When I felt you coming I made up an excuse to go upstairs. I…I could hardly believe it," Eric smiled so brightly at that moment I felt the sun must be shining on me. The effect only served to make his face all the more handsome.

"I had to come. Anything for you," I knew I was wasting precious time being maudlin but I simply couldn't help myself.

"But, Sookie, I'm afraid, even in this tantalizing disguise," his eyes strayed down to my corset and short skirt and he let out an involuntary groan of longing, "you will still be recognized, if only by your smell."

"I know, your doorman might have ambushed me if you hadn't come to my rescue. But I have other means of listening in to the proceedings. I just needed to find you, figure out where the meeting was, and let you know my plan. Is Pam here? She's the whole reason I knew that this was happening tonight."

"I figured as much. Pam's been sent away to run errands for Felipe. He doesn't want her anywhere near Fangtasia when the contract is being drawn."

"Pam thought she might be able to talk to you afterward? Find out the nuts and bolts somehow?" My voice was hopeful but I could feel Eric's grimness emanating like the glow of an oil lamp.

"There are no guarantees. It' a cold day in Hell when Freyda leaves me to talk to my child alone. She even confiscated my cell phone. The Queen has turned savagely jealous since she found me with you, loving you instead of her. I have a sneaking suspicion that she now wants to separate me from everyone I care for, forever."

Eric looked deeply disturbed at this mention of the Queen's power over him and I felt a pang of hatred resound through my chest. Just then his eyes darted to one of the blank walls of the office and my pulse quickened as I felt his unease burgeoning at hearing something I could not. He looked back at me, his expression hardened.

"They're almost done setting up. Soon, they will grow impatient and come upstairs looking for me. Hurry, tell me the plan."

I gave him a cursory mission brief and his expression remained emotionless as I got to the end. I was suddenly scared. Would it not work? Was there some critical element I had forgotten to factor in which would yield all of my calculations useless? I averted my eyes, waiting for Eric stamp out the ridiculousness of the plan with his superior logic. I felt his hand cup my chin and warmth began to spread over me instantaneously.

"You are brilliant, Sookie Stackhouse. _Brilliant_," and then he kissed me, setting off a dazzling display of fireworks that spread from my mouth down into my throat and entwined with the very fiber of my being. His tongue rhythmically pressed into mine, creating sensual waves of pleasure which coursed through my blood and sent shivers down my spine. I clutched at his neck as he wrapped his arms around my waist, inflaming the electricity between us to a blazingly high voltage. It was pure bliss.

I moved closer into his body, welcoming his sultry touch and the response it aroused within me. He pushed me up against the wall harder as his mouth pressed more desperately into mine. A welcome tingling between my legs materialized and the faintest of moans escaped me. I parted my lips wider to greedily lick up more of his delicious taste and he allowed my tongue to explore him, the passionate tango of give-and-take balancing perfectly.

I wanted him, all of him, unconditionally. It was visceral and undeniable. His lips sent me to paradise—to a fairytale land most humans were too dull to even dream of. My mind struggled to keep pace with the feelings he was inspiring within me. His kiss was magic.

Suddenly he pulled away and I let out a disappointed sigh as I felt his hands unraveling from around me. My lips pouted expectantly. My body ached with desire.

"I am sorry, my lover. You must know how badly I want to take you right here and now," he took my hand in his and guided it down to his pants so I could feel his huge stiffness. I uttered an incoherent exclamation as I touched him and my eyes grew big and full of yearning. "But we haven't much time. I have to get you out the door without piquing Jackson's interest."

"You're 800 years older than him! Who cares if he smells me again?" I was growing desperate at the prospect of having to part with Eric so soon. I would have said anything to stay in his presence even a second longer.

"Do not underestimate him. Jackson is a ruthless vampire who has reached high regard in Felipe's eyes by taking commands without question and killing all who dared defy him. He now has your scent and will track you all the way back to Bon Temps if he has mind to," Eric looked murderous as he said this but I knew he was only trying to warn me of the danger. I had a fleeting thought but he snuffed it out as he continued,

"Going out the back door would be too risky and I want to mask your smell amongst the other humans. I'll have to distract Jackson as you leave," Eric spoke intensely and I could sense his growing anxiousness as the minutes ticked by.

I looked up at him sadly, simultaneously elated to have experienced that miracle of his kiss and completely forlorn at having to leave him. I wiped a black lipstick smudge off his lips with my thumb and I saw him quiver with delight.

"No matter what they write on that contract," I began slowly, "I won't give up on you."

"I put you through hell and you come out the other side even more determined than before. There is such beauty in you, such goodness. I hardly deserve it," Eric's eyes now searched my face desperately, trying to comprehend how I could still be standing here with him after all of our struggles.

"You deserve much more than to have your life taken away by a heartless and manipulative monarch," I interjected boldly. Eric seemed to stumble back at my words, in awe that I had spoken them. The bond projected his sentiments onto me and I soaked them up willingly, wishing to remember every detail of our encounter.

"Words will never express how thankful I am that you came. Please tell Pam all that you find out tonight. She will know how to protect you, no matter what happens." Eric spoke softly but earnestly and I grasped his hand in my own, relishing the sparks his touch elicited.

"I love you, Eric," I said in a whisper.

"I love you too, Sookie," he breathed back. And then he opened the door and the loud music met our ears once again.

Still holding my hand, he led me to the bar where I saw Felicia, one of Fangtasia's vampire employees, pouring some sort of cocktail. Eric leaned his tall frame over the bar and muttered something to her so low I couldn't even begin to hear it over the raucous noise. All at once she had placed the drink in front of a human patron and darted out from behind the bar in a maneuver so fast I couldn't fathom it.

We were all three now approaching the door and I felt such a strong desire to stay with Eric that if I knew Sam weren't still waiting in his truck for me I probably would have been tempted to rush stubbornly back into the throngs of people. Eric then stopped before the door opened, and spoke directly into my ear.

"Wait fifteen seconds then walk out. Do not look at me with any type of recognition, just head for the parking lot and do not turn back. The door to the basement is the dark red one behind the bar, the chamber is down the stone steps. Until we meet again, my lover," he squeezed my hand tightly one last time, prompting still more electricity to come bursting through. Then he opened the door and stepped outside with Felicia following close behind.

I tried to wait fifteen seconds but it was likely closer to ten. When I walked outside I spied Jackson in my peripheral as I continued straight ahead, sensing Eric's presence but not attempting to meet his gaze. I heard a short segment of their exchange:

"Come inside, Jackson. I want to see if you're a better bartender than a doorman. Felicia will take over out here," Eric was back to his smooth talking ways and I felt the comfort and joy of the bond disintegrating as I moved further and further away from him.

* * *

XVIII.

The walk back to Sam's truck was brutally long. The night was colder somehow, crueler. I now felt blisters forming and a dull pain shot through the balls of my feet as a result of the new high heeled boots. With each step the pull of the blood bond weakened noticeably and I let out a rueful sigh. I thought of my excitement as I approached the club and how I could barely hold myself back from launching into an all out sprint. Now juxtaposed with my slow and begrudging plod back through the parking lot, I experienced overbearing guilt at not being nearly as elated to see Sam again.

I finally spotted his old Chevy and increased my pace, anxious to sit down and take off the itchy wig. I lightly knocked on the passenger window so he knew to unlock the truck and I heard a familiar click in response. I opened the heavy door and jumped inside, jamming the lock down behind me.

Sam looked vastly relieved to see me and as I sat back against the comfortable cloth bench seat I felt a similar sense of relaxation. However, he also looked as though he had been sick with worry while waiting; his eyes were wide, his hair was ruffled, and I noticed a subtle layer of sweat across his forehead. How long had I been gone?

"Everything all right, Sam? What time is it?" I asked quickly, anticipating that my 'back in fifteen minutes' promise had completely gone out the window.

"It's 12:50, you're only five minutes late," Sam smiled reassuringly. I had only been gone _twenty_ minutes? I ran down all the events that had transpired since I left the truck: the hold up with lewd and crude vampire Jackson at the entrance, Eric's vanishing once we got inside the club and subsequent reappearance, our talk in his office, our kiss…

I could hardly believe only twenty minutes had passed but we were still right on schedule so I didn't waste another moment lamenting about my far-too-brief foray in Fangtasia.

"The good news is I found Eric," Sam's thoughts indicated he already knew that based on my lipstick (or lack thereof) but I chose to ignore this jab. "The bad news is he said there's no guarantee he'll be able to tell Pam himself what's on the contract. In fact, she's not even there," I continued on reluctantly.

"So there's no other way around it. You need me to go in." We had discussed the possibility that Eric may tell me Sam's services weren't necessary if he had a surefire way to communicate the results with Pam, but that cookie did not crumble in our favor.

"Yes, I need you to go in," I saw a distressed look paint his face as I said this and I wanted to hug him for his courage, "Please know how grateful I am, Sam. I can tell you exactly where to go, all you have to do is listen in then come right back out, easy as pie," I felt like I was convincing myself more than I was convincing him.

Sam started undressing without another word and I politely looked away as I spoke:

"The meeting is being held in the basement. There's a dark red door behind the bar that'll lead to it. You go down a flight of stone steps and you should see the lawyers, the Queen and King, and Eric. Don't draw too much attention to yourself, and try to stay a healthy distance away just in case," my voice was wavering as my nerves grew. It was far more unsettling sending Sam into the fray than going in myself.

I heard him chuck his boots into the back of the cabin and then shimmy out of his jeans. I was keeping my gaze intently locked out the window when I heard his voice,

"Sookie," I looked over instinctively and Sam was now wearing nothing but his boxers, "Don't worry about me, I'll be okay. But just in case something happens, give me a hug?"

He looked at me with puppy dog eyes and I obliged him instantly (though I was mindful of the fact that he had waited until _after_ he was undressed to ask for a hug). I concentrated on keeping his thoughts out by sending up a prayer for his safety.

"Be careful Sam. I'll be waiting with the engine running like we talked about."

I looked away again as he took off his final article of clothing then the unpleasant sounds of him shifting filled the truck. I heard what sounded like bones breaking and skin tearing and I cringed at the noise until finally all that was left was a faint buzzing.

As I glanced over to the driver's seat, the man I had just had a conversation with was completely gone and a house fly zipped spiritedly around the steering wheel. I unrolled my window a few inches with the manual knob on the door and Sam flew out into the darkness toward the nightclub.

* * *

XIX.

The first order of business was to remove the long black wig which was at this time itching like scabies. I undid the pins and threw it aside hastily, my scalp breathing an inaudible sigh of relief. I unraveled my own hair from the braid I had kept it in and ran my fingers through my decidedly sweaty tresses. Next, I unlaced the thigh-high boots and yanked my feet out, so glad to be free of their spiteful grip. I massaged my toes which had now gone numb then scooted over into the driver's seat.

Sam and I had planned to leave the truck running at this point just in case something went awry and we had to make a speedy getaway. He had left the keys in the ignition so I cranked up the engine then quickly shut off the lights to avert any undue attention. The parking lot was emptying out steadily as gothic-looking bar patrons streamed back into their SUV's and sedans, likely going home to get an abbreviated night's sleep before waking up early and working a 9-5 office job. All I could do now was wait.

And wait. I searched for my cell phone so I could see the time: 1:05 am. The meeting had only been going on for _five_ minutes? I suddenly had a much greater appreciation for what Sam must have gone through waiting those twenty minutes for my return. I flipped on the radio but after only a few songs the mediocre tunes offered little distraction. Just as I started to remove my leather dog collar I heard three knocks rap on the passenger side window and I let out an impulsive scream.

"Sookie, calm down and open the door. It's me, Pam." She stood outside the truck wearing a long and flowing black gown which was her typical garb when she was on the job. Her lips were bright red and her voice was monotone. I obediently unlocked the door and thanked my lucky stars that it wasn't a more homicidal vampire.

"Pam! You scared the bejesus out of me!"

"Sorry. Next time I'll skip the knocking and just break the glass and unlock the door myself," I needn't ever worry about Pam's uncanny ability to be sarcastic. She stepped up into the truck with far more elegance than I could ever hope to have.

"I thought you were running errands for Felipe? What are you doing here?"

"I would ask you the same question. I specifically told you not to come to Fangtasia tonight and yet here you are, idling in a pick-up truck and wearing excessive amounts of eyeliner. Please explain."

"Pam, you should actually be thanking me for coming tonight because right now, as we speak, my friend Sam's inside getting every detail about that contract for us."

"How is that possible?"

"He's a fly."

"Lovely. I should have known," Pam let a small smile cross her lips and such a rare display of happiness actually bestowed some comfort on me. "So what's up with the Emo makeup and the slut-tastic outfit? And, good Lord, Sookie are these _thigh-high_?" Pam had picked up one of my discarded boots off the floor and was examining it with unbridled curiosity.

"There's a wig somewhere around here too. I needed a disguise so I could go into the club and do some reconnaissance," Pam raised her eyebrows as I spoke this last word.

"Oh, my. The last time I saw you, you were wasted and stumbling around your house in a honey-mustard-stained t-shirt. Now you're wearing high-heeled boots and using military terminology? Bravo."

She looked at me with warmth in her eyes, (well, as much warmth as she could muster), and nodded her approval. I felt a strange sense of contentment at her companionship. Was she…were we…_bonding_? Just as I took a moment to ponder this unforeseen phenomenon, the interior of the truck filled up with a vigorous buzzing noise and Sam shifted back into human form right on top of Pam. Literally.

* * *

XX.

Pam actually handled the abrupt introduction of a naked man appearing in her lap pretty well, all things considered. She snarled ferociously and her fangs came down, readying herself to lash out at the nude intruder. However, my frantic yells of reassurance surprisingly served to calm her down.

"It's ok! It's ok! It's Sam!" I called out, not wanting her to bite him and taint the interior of his truck with blood. Sam was sweating and breathing heavily, clearly exhausted from the effort of shifting.

"Pam, move over and let him sit!" Pam was certainly not used to taking commands from a human and I sensed her aggravation at being pushed into the middle, but the truck only had three seats and Sam was on the verge of hyperventilating. She complied and scooted in between us as Sam finally spoke:

"Drive, Sookie! Let's get out of here!" His voice was severe and I quickly whipped the car out of park and stepped on the accelerator with my bare foot. We skidded out onto the thoroughfare and I began speeding toward the interstate.

Sam started hurriedly searching for his clothes but I suspected Pam was sitting directly on top of them. She was still irritated at having to be the middle of a telepath and shifter sandwich and was not planning to offer any assistance. I took one hand off the wheel and reached down to pat the floor. The first thing I felt was the Elvira wig. I picked it up and tossed it onto Sam's lap, trying to afford him a small degree of decency. He used it to cover himself and spent the next few moments studying the unexpected vampire sitting next to him in his truck.

"Uh, you remember Pam, right? Eric's progeny? She's real interested in hearing what you've found out from the meeting tonight," Pam scoffed at this statement but I continued on without delay, "Pam's also very thankful to you, Sam, for risking your life on her maker's behalf." It felt strange having to force niceties, but at my prompting Pam gave him the credit he was due.

"Yes, thank you, Sam," she said coldly, perhaps still a bit miffed at having him land on top of her in his birthday suit.

Sam nodded his acceptance of her statement, picked up a water bottle and began chugging. He was still sweating profusely, but at least his breathing was gradually slowing. Once he had regained some of his composure, he started to detail what had happened in the basement of Fangtasia.

"The new contract is set. As the Queen's royal consort, Eric must now relinquish all of his assets to Freyda and she can do with them whatever she pleases," I felt Pam slump back against the seat, dejected.

"What about Fangtasia?" Pam asked slowly, staring straight ahead out of the windshield in silent fury.

"They said the bar's gonna go to some new guy, the sheriff?"

"That's Jackson, the new sheriff of Area Five," I cringed as I said this and Pam let out a growl of immense displeasure.

"They were raffling off his other possessions like desserts at a potluck. He was barely even able to keep his house," Sam was sounding increasingly downtrodden and I appreciated his empathy. I could only imagine the state of anger Eric must be feeling at this moment.

"So Freyda wants Eric to have absolutely nothing to come back to after the marital contract expires in a hundred years?" Pam's voice was even colder than before as her infuriation increased.

"Yea, well, about that…in light of Eric's breaching of the old contract, Freyda has extended the new contract to two hundred years," Sam spoke in a small voice, apparently afraid of what type of reaction this would bring forth from Pam.

She let out an animal-like growl and I groaned in unison. The fact that the contract was for one hundred years or two hundred years didn't make much difference to me as a human, but this was about Eric. The desire to somehow free him from the Queen's stranglehold was growing stronger and stronger within me.

"Then the King tried to lay claim to Sookie," Sam emitted some disgust as he said this and my blood began to boil, "he said he's never smelled something so wonderful in all his years."

My heart began racing and I felt an uncomfortable sinking feeling in my chest. Did I now belong to Felipe? Was I…_his_?

"But Eric drew the line there," Sam said, much to my relief, "since Eric had followed the orders to divorce Sookie he maintained that she should therefore be left out of all vampire affairs from here on out and Felipe agreed." I began to let out an audible sigh of gratitude but Pam cut me short:

"Ha. Fat chance," her voice was sharp and my fear rose, unabated.

"What do you mean 'fat chance'? Do you think Felipe will come after me? He agreed to leave me alone!"

"I think he will say and do anything to get Eric out of his kingdom, even if it means telling a lie. They might have written your immunity into the contract but what's to stop Felipe from tracking you down while you're driving home from work and draining you? He's a King. One dead waitress isn't going to amount to much in the town of Bon Temps."

I shivered as Pam made this disturbingly true statement. I could sense anger growing inside of Sam and his thoughts were red and wrathful. I tried my best to ignore the dark threat of a prowling ancient vampire who was thirsty for my blood, but terrible visions of what evil he could do to me kept crossing my mind.

"Felipe said during the meeting that he's going back to his palace in New Orleans. There's no way he'll stick around here pining after Sookie," Sam sounded remarkably hopeful but despair had already disrupted my peace.

"Regardless, I'll arrange for a guard to watch over Sookie for as long as is necessary," Pam retorted brusquely. Sam seemed satisfied with this but it rendered little effect on me. I wasn't sure who the guard would be but I felt I was grasping at straws in thinking I could be completely protected from a vampire like Felipe.

"The Queen also insisted on something else," Sam's voice dropped as he spoke and I braced myself for yet another malicious appendix, "she wants to change the number of times Eric must bed her from once a year to once a week."

A choking sensation overcame me and I brought my hand to my throat instinctively. Nothing could have prepared me for this detail. I thought back to the passionate kiss we had just shared and imagined him kissing Freyda in the same way, imagined him touching her and looking deep into her eyes the way he looked into mine—loving her as he had loved me. I rammed the gas pedal down as I fumed and blinked incessantly to stifle the tears.

All of my happiness at seeing Eric just an hour ago was dissolving with each further mile I drove. I knew the outcome of a marriage contract which Eric could neither fight nor negotiate wouldn't be ideal, but this was downright appalling. Fangtasia had been thrust into the hands of a new sheriff, Eric had lost almost all of his assets, a vampire King was vying for my blood, Freyda had imposed a marriage which was twice as long as it should have been, and Eric would basically be a sex slave forced to pleasure her at her every beck and call.

We continued on in silence for awhile. Sam's thoughts were full of worry—he wanted more than anything to save me from Felipe but he felt powerless, worthless. Listening to his self-deprecating inner monologue was horrible but I couldn't seem to muster up the concentration necessary to shut it out.

Pam was totally motionless and tight-lipped. I knew she was brooding over the awful news Sam had delivered and I felt sorry for her being ousted from what should have been her rightful position as sheriff. Now the marriage that was once tentative seemed completely set in stone and I struggled to find another means of finagling Eric out of the morass. Every new plan I drew up in my mind deflated just as quickly as it had come.

I hated Freyda and Felipe for doing this to Eric but most of all I hated the feeling of hopelessness that was now consuming me. Sam's voice cut through the quiet that had permeated the truck and his tone was even more somber than before:

"Also, there was one more thing. The Queen said she's tired of staying in the Louisiana backwaters and tired of having to keep tabs on Eric. They're leaving for Oklahoma tonight on an Anubis plane."

"What? But the wedding's not for another month!" I protested angrily.

Sam didn't respond immediately but I plucked the next thought right out from his head, the air completely escaping from my lungs as I did so. I began to feel faint and had to fight back the impending darkness of unconsciousness in order to keep my hands on the wheel. Despite all of the utterly foul addendums and revisions to the contract, this was by far the worst.

Pam sensed my despair and quickly demanded an answer from Sam, her voice rising caustically:

"WHY are they leaving tonight if the wedding isn't for another month?" Her forceful words were clouded with fear and I took a deep swallow as I prepared to hear Sam speak the sickeningly vile news aloud:

"Actually, the ceremony is in less than a week. They're getting married this Saturday."

* * *

XXI.

I pulled the truck around the back of Merlotte's and parked next to Sam's trailer. My car looked remarkably lonely sitting in the darkness waiting for my return. I hopped out of the cabin hastily and my bare feet felt alien as they touched the hard asphalt. I anxiously breathed in the fresh air as I looked up at the vast black sky: the immovable stars served as a stark contrast to my own life which now seemed to be spinning out of control. I envied the sky's static condition, its stability. What I wouldn't give to make the impending marriage stop, to make time stop, to make everything stop…

Pam glided down behind me and shut the door, leaving Sam inside to put on his clothes and make himself decent. I looked at Pam's face, so sullen and full of anger. She was suffering just as I was and I didn't know the words to say to comfort her because I couldn't even comfort myself. I tried to fight them off but I felt the inevitable onslaught of tears approaching and turned my head away in shame.

She rushed over and grabbed my shoulders forcefully, staring me square in the eyes.

"Sookie, this fight is not over. We must push forward," Pam entreated me as I blinked hurriedly to suppress the tears.

"What are we going to do? The wedding is in three days and Eric is probably already long gone on a plane to Oklahoma." I knew whining would only irritate Pam but I didn't know what else to say. I was lost.

"I know one thing we're _not_ going to do and that's sit on our asses boohooing. Sorrow is a useless emotion. Be strong and great forces will come to your aid," Pam spoke mystically and I had to wonder if now was the time for abstract philosophy.

"I...I miss him," my voice wavered unsteadily. Under normal circumstances it would have felt awkward to admit this to Pam, but right about it now it seemed to be the most natural thing in the world.

"I miss him too," Pam hugged me and I felt the full weight of her despair. She was certainly not one given to physical affection and I relished this rare moment of her embrace.

"Do you have a plan?" I asked quietly into her ear. My idea to send Sam into Fangtasia as a fly now seemed frivolous and short sighted. There just wasn't enough time. Pam stepped back so she could meet my eyes again.

"At the moment, no. But Eric is my maker, Sookie. You didn't really think I would give up on him, did you?" and then Pam smiled and I knew I wouldn't give up on him either. The odds were undoubtedly stacked against us but at least we were resolved in our determination.

I heard a door shut as Sam jumped out of the truck. Still buttoning up his shirt he approached us cautiously, a grim look on his face. I walked over to meet him, my arms already outstretched and ready to fold around him.

"Thank you so much, Sam. You were spectacular. If you hadn't gone in there tonight and risked your neck we wouldn't know anything," I spoke genuinely and hoped my words would reflect my gratitude.

"If it weren't for you saving me I wouldn't even have a neck to risk," Sam responded in kind. "I'm just sorry I didn't have more positive news to bring back."

"That's all right," Pam interjected, "even with bad news you've given us a chance to take action. Thank you for your courageousness, I am in your debt."

Sam looked rightfully floored by her statement and he stood there in mild shock before finally saying, "You're welcome."

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Pam began, "I have to report back to Fangtasia before Felipe starts to wonder what became of his errand-girl."

And just like that Pam took off at vamp speed and vanished before our eyes. I wasn't sure if she had taken flight or started a marathon run back to Shreveport, but either way, Sam and I were left alone in the bright glow of the moonlight.

"Listen, Sookie, if you want me to stay with you tonight, if you're scared, I can definitely—"

"No, Sam. Lord knows I appreciate what you've just done for me and I'm not going to put you in any more danger. I'm not going to live my life being afraid anymore. I don't want to be that scared girl cowering behind a man anymore," I spoke with an insistence that surprised even myself. Every time I turned a corner there seemed to be a new threat; I had to start facing them head on.

"I understand and that's fine. Just don't be too proud to pick up the phone and call if you need help," Sam spoke with such generosity I wondered how I could have possibly found such an amazing friend. I gave him one last hug as we said our goodnights then piled my things into my car and headed home.

As I was driving down Hummingbird Road toward my house a strange urge overcame me—an urge so powerful I knew I could not ignore it. I pulled into my parking spot by the back porch then got out of the car and spared another look up at the sky, the stars still mocking me in their enviably calm steadiness. Without another thought I ran through the woods bare foot, my keys jangling noisily in my hands.

Running through the dark Louisiana night was invigorating, a true rush. Branches whipped past my face and leaves crackled underneath my stride. I reminisced about the kiss Eric and I had shared and how his mere touch had made sparks fly wildly within me. Would that be our final swan song?

My legs began aching but I pounded on and ignored the dull pain. I reached the soft grass of the cemetery and headed west, my pace quickening as I approached my goal. Finally, I found the familiar headstone and went down on my knees in front of it, breathing deeply:

_Adele Stackhouse_

Gran's name was carved into the rock in beautiful manuscript and I ran my fingers over the letters, feeling peace with each curving line. As I sat down I could hear her melodic voice calling me down to breakfast, smell her hair as it brushed against my face when she tucked me into bed, feel the skin on her hands which crinkled like the pages of a book in her old age. I missed her terribly.

"Gran, I really wish you were here right now because I need you more than ever. I'm so lost without you. You were my only light and I can't see in the dark. It seems my life is spiraling out of control and I'm powerless to stop it. I need your help…" I spoke quietly, knowing in my heart that she was listening.

"Remember when I could barely get a date to save my life? And even when I did it would end horribly?" I smiled faintly as I thought about these old memories and all the laughter we had shared, "I was lonely then, but I still had you, so it didn't matter. You always just wanted me to find happiness, didn't you, Gran? Meet a nice man and fall in love...Well, I've found that man, and now he's been taken from me. I just don't know what to do anymore. Please, help me. Please, send me a sign, Gran."

Just as I spoke these words, I heard a twig snap behind me. Before I could turn my head to discover the source of the noise, an icy cold hand hooked onto my shoulder. I let out a single blood-curdling shriek of horror into the dark sky while the stars glared down menacingly, and then I was silenced.

* * *

**Author's Note: My faithful readers, your continued support warms my heart. Please know how grateful I am to you. I am sorry to leave you in suspense but I feel such tension is the very soul of storytelling. Do not fear, your patience will be rewarded greatly :)**

**- Peach**


	4. Chapter 4

XXII.

The cool hand clamped tightly over my mouth to stifle the desperate scream I had only been able to vocalize for a split second. I fought to turn my head and at least face my captor, face the grim reaper head on, but the strange vampire pinned me against his body and whispered frigidly into my ear:

"Shhhh," the sound was as gravelly as the wheels of a train on a rusted railroad track. My eyes opened painfully wide in terror, but held in the stranger's vise-like grip all I could see were the unmoving stars in the black sky. I cursed myself for venturing into the cemetery in the dead of night so capriciously, but the desire to see my Gran had been too powerful to remain unfulfilled.

Sensing my final moments were upon me, I began to pray. I prayed Jason and Michele's wedding would be beautiful and their lives together would be joyful. I prayed for Sam to fall in love with a nice girl and grow old with her. He had shown me so much kindness over the years and it would be morally remiss for him not to experience that in another person. I prayed for Eric, prayed that he would somehow find happiness in his cruel situation without me. I still felt a faint tingle below my navel which had been aroused by our explosively passionate kiss at Fangtasia and I reveled in the remembrance.

_Gran_, I thought determinedly, _here I come_. How apropos it was that my life was coming to its end in a graveyard. I only hoped that there would be enough left of my body after this vicious assault for me to be buried alongside my family. But as I braced myself for the inevitable death blow, my muscles cramping up in awful anticipation, the deep voice continued,

"I'm not going to hurt you, just don't scream. You might wake the dead."

The sound remained raspy but I now detected a curious hint of civility. My heart still pounded aggressively in my chest but slowly, amazingly, I felt the vampire's hold on me loosen until finally I was free. I darted around the headstone and placed my hands on the rock, as if my Gran's epitaph could somehow protect me. When I turned to meet the eyes of the stranger my mouth fell open in shock.

It was Jackson, the new sheriff of Area Five. He must have stood at least six and a half feet tall and in the glow of the moonlight his figure looked even more imposing. Muscles rippled under his tight black t-shirt and his dark skin blended in seamlessly with the garment. The two brilliant diamonds in his ears dazzled even in the dim night sky and were outstripped only by the piercing quality of his brown eyes.

"Jackson? What the hell are you doing here?" I was incredulous and feeling very vulnerable as I was still wearing the practically nonexistent skirt and revealing corset. Not to mention the fact that I was barefoot.

"I know what you're up against," his voice was still incredibly deep but there was an air of regret about him which served to soften his words. I wasn't sure how to interpret this cryptic admission so I remained guarded behind Gran's headstone as he continued:

"I'm sorry if I scared you, but I felt oddly compelled to track you down," his dark eyes searched me calmly but my heartbeat remained frantic. I was dubious. Eric had warned me about him, warned me that he was a ruthless vampire. According to Eric, Jackson was known for killing any and all dissenters and taking Felipe's orders unquestioningly.

"Have you been sent by the King?" I was still unclear why Jackson had journeyed all the way from Shreveport to sneak up on me in the Bon Temps cemetery. Before he had come upon me I had been talking to Gran, asking her to help me, to send me a sign. Was this vampire the manifestation of her assistance?

"The King may be my superior but that doesn't mean I can't operate of my own free will from time to time."

"But Eric said you were loyal to him."

"Eric Northman and I just met. All he knows of me is what the King has told him. I got the job as sheriff by being Felipe's obedient servant for many years. But I assure you, there is a vast difference between obedience and loyalty."

Jackson spoke with an air of distaste. For the first time during our strange conversation I began to empathize with him.

Vampires are powerful in many ways: they are inhumanly strong, fast, and possess heightened senses. Perhaps their greatest gift is that of immortality, which allows them potentially infinite lives—lives in which they can amass unparalleled amounts of knowledge. They can become master manipulators, intelligent thieves, and calculated killers. But for all of their advantages, they are still encumbered by their most damning weakness: the necessity that they abide by the ancient political structure.

Despite all of their supernatural strengths, vampires continued to be at the mercy and whim of the royals who wield power over them. The unavoidable stymie of Eric and Freyda's marriage had illustrated this unfortunate condition to me with disturbing vividness. However, that did not explain Jackson's random appearance at my Gran's grave.

"You tracked me all the way from Shreveport…Is this about my blood? You nearly bit me at the club," I was projecting my distrust strongly and I saw him look down and shake his head at the ground.

"I've never smelled someone like you before," he was shamefaced now, "you smell like warm caramel and white sand and…and sunlight," Jackson's voice wavered but his face was frank and nonthreatening, "It was unbelievable; just standing near you I could almost feel the golden rays on my face. It has been over a century since I've experienced the heat of the sun, I apologize if I scared you in my excitement. I would not have bitten you though. I was only posturing, I swear."

Why did this vampire (whom I didn't even know), feel the need to explain his impulses to me? I remained stock still, trying to determine the degree of his sincerity. He must have sensed my suspicion because his next words were full of more emotion than I ever would have dreamed possible.

"I promise on my _grandmother's grave_, I wasn't going to hurt you then and I'm not going to hurt you now."

The vampire mentioning his grandmother affected me in a way which I cannot fully explain. Perhaps it was the shock of it—in all of my dealings with vampires they scarcely discussed their human lives and certainly remained reticent about their human families. Perhaps it was the fact that we were, at this very moment, both standing on my own Gran's grave. Either way, I exhaled sharply and let my heartbeat slow accordingly. Despite all of my better judgments I could see that there was something more behind his eyes, something surprisingly kind. I had no choice but to take his word.

"Okay. I believe you," I started slowly, "but that doesn't mean that I trust you."

Jackson seemed to acknowledge that this was fair, but he nevertheless continued his appeal,

"You don't have to trust me. But understand this: if we don't start believing in the power of trust and the possibility that people are capable of earning that trust, then all hope is lost for humanity."

He did something remarkable then, he sat down in the damp grass of the cemetery Indian-style, as if readying himself to tell a campfire story. His impeccably polished shoes looked distinctly out of place in the earthen dirt of the ground. I emerged from behind the headstone and followed his lead, sitting across from him with my legs crossed at the ankle and my back against the granite of Gran's final resting place. It did allow me some comfort to be so close to her, even if I was sharing the space with a strange vampire.

"What did you mean when you said, 'I know what you're up against'?"

"I heard the meeting happening in the basement tonight at Fangtasia," the sheriff began purposefully, "even by vampire standards, my hearing is exceptionally acute, as is my sense of smell. I didn't catch every detail but I quickly gathered what the situation was—the old sheriff was being forced into a non-negotiable marriage with the Queen of Oklahoma."

Jackson's face looked neither deceitful nor apathetic. In fact, he exhibited complete and utter seriousness and my mind urged me to take his words to heart. I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but there was an importance about his speech and the way his deep voice lilted up and down like a lullaby.

"Felipe de Castro then expressed his desire to take Eric's ex-wife for himself, a woman named Sookie. He maintained that he'd never smelled someone so delicious. My memory of a strikingly aromatic human girl entering the club earlier was then jogged along with the fact that Eric had come bursting through the doors to take her inside. I didn't know your name since I was too distracted to properly check your ID," a smile crossed his dark lips as he said this.

"But I came to the realization on my own that the sweet-smelling girl I had met outside of Fangtasia was the same one the King was lusting after—Eric Northman's unusually fragrant visitor. You."

I was certainly impressed by Jackson's deductive reasoning but still, the most important question of all remained unanswered:

"But what does this mean to_ you_? You still haven't given me a real reason why I should trust you."

"Because we both want the same thing, you and I."

"And what is that?"

"Freedom."

* * *

XXIII.

I was, admittedly, dumbfounded by Jackson's words. Here was a vampire, likely around 200 years in age, sitting cross-legged on my Grandmother's grave plot and telling me of his innermost desire to be free. It was a decidedly personal topic for a vampire to be sharing with a human he barely knew, and I struggled to recognize the importance.

"Why would you come here to tell me all of this? It just doesn't make sense," my voice was small but deliberate: I had too often suffered at the hands of vampires to not take everything they said with a grain of salt.

"Sookie, if we ally ourselves we have the perfect opportunity to defeat the King. Don't you understand the significance of that?"

After all of the awful things Felipe had done to Eric and Pam it would be ridiculously satisfying to finally have some comeuppance. But my main concern was Freyda, not the King. The wedding was less than a week away.

"It's true, Felipe and I have never really been, well, _friendly_. But I want Eric to be free of his marriage contract, that's all."

"So you get your husband back, and then what? Do you think the King will just let you live out your lives happily ever after?" Jackson's voice was rising and I sensed his grievances coming forth, "Felipe will haunt you forever, he wishes nobody to be happy but himself. Why do you think he has relished this union between Mr. Northman and the Queen? He delights in others' suffering. Knowing your ex-husband experienced even an inkling of joy from being with you makes him seethe with anger. The King is already jealous that Eric has tasted you."

I was beginning to fit together the puzzle pieces which comprised Jackson's malcontent with the King. I again pondered how vampires are doomed to submit to their royals without protest, remembering Eric's painful placation of the King and Queen on my back porch after he had been caught in flagrante. I pictured Jackson serving Felipe day in and day out to infinity. It was a somber image.

"But why would you want to help me?"

"For all of my life I've been surrounded by evil—it resides even in the best people, rearing its ugly head when least we expect it. It may just be a faint glint in the eye or an imperceptible twitch of the mouth, but it taints a great many," Jackson looked determined in his explanation. "But tonight, when I looked into your eyes I saw…only goodness. Wholesomeness. That is divinely rare. There is a light in you, Sookie. But there are forces at work to extinguish it. The King thirsts for you, yearns to own you as his pet, or his slave," his voice dropped an octave as he said this last word and I shuddered at the implications.

"If you're so opposed to the King, why did you come all the way to Louisiana to do his bidding? Surely you must have accepted the job offer willingly?"

"A good subject knows when to bow his head and capitulate and when to fight back. Felipe's granting me Area Five was no time to resist. By all estimations it was a considerable promotion from my last position, and also a great opportunity to wield more influence. I've been working towards my freedom since I was still human, and in you I finally see the chance to grasp it."

Jackson spoke forcefully but with a velvety cadence. This was clearly something he had been ruminating on for a long time. A treasonous bid to oust an unfair ruler and gain back our freedom all at the same time seemed like a tall order, but the more he spoke the more convinced I became. I felt the fire of hatred for Freyda, for Felipe, and for the entire vampire political structure growing inside of me. Jackson represented what may very well be my last chance to save Eric. However, something he had mentioned left me unsettled.

"You said you were working towards your freedom since you were still human, how could—"

"I was born a slave," his deep voice interjected boldly and for the first time all night it truly reflected his anguish, "in 1792, in Dry Branch, Georgia. The plantation was so ghastly we called it Lonely Branch. They made us do awful things, dreadful things…things which I haven't spoken of in nearly 200 years," Jackson's eyes were unblinking and full of pain. He sat still as a statue with the moonlight washing over his features, the memories of his human life tormenting him.

"My mother and father were sold to a different slave owner when my sister and I were still young. I never found out what became of them, even to this day. My grandmother was the only beacon of light in that pitch black nightmare. When I finally ran away from the plantation I promised I would come back for her, I promised I would save her," Jackson hung his head and stared down into the damp grass, "but I was too late."

I felt the familiar sting of rising tears in my own eyes and could only imagine what Jackson must be feeling. There was something so poignant in his expression—so tortured and tragic that I experienced each of his words as sure as the crack of a whip. He had opened himself up to me, revealed the horrors of his past so that I could understand his present. He wanted me to trust him.

"My Gran was murdered not too long ago. I know what it's like to lose someone who meant everything to you," I offered my condolences to him but my voice was shaky and weak; I don't believe I had ever so egregiously misjudged a person in my entire life.

Jackson looked at me and nodded reverentially, showing me he understood. His gravelly voice then cut through the cool and silent air as he continued telling the harrowing tale:

"I made a run for the North in 1818. My sister, Marjani, worked in the Master's house and had overheard him discussing how he was fixing to sell me off just like he had done my parents." Jackson's eyes were hollow in his reminiscence, "when she came to my quarters to tell me I knew I had to leave the plantation, by any means necessary. I wanted to go alone and come back with reinforcements to free my sister and my grandmother. Grandma was too sick with pneumonia to make the journey, but Marjani cried and begged for me to let her come. I can still hear her sobbing as I left the shack that cold November night and followed the North Star."

His gaze was out of focus, not seeing what was in front of him now but rather recollecting the events that had taken place almost 200 years ago:

"The Underground Railroad wasn't well established that early and I didn't know about it anyhow. I tried to keep to the shadows and only journeyed at night, but without much food or drink I hadn't even made it out of Georgia before I started growing weak. I began to see how unreasonable my cursory bid for freedom was, but desperation will make a man do strange things. One night, as I lay in an abandoned barn and nursed the fiery blisters on my feet, a man approached me," Jackson glanced up at the sky and I saw the yellow half moon reflected in his dark, glassy eyes.

"At first I thought it must be a slave catcher. There was bound to be a price on my head as I had been gone for several weeks. But when the stranger got close I saw he had fangs. I assumed I had grown delirious with hunger and was hallucinating, but the pain I felt as he bit into my neck was too real to deny. When I woke up again I had been made vampire."

"My God. Who was your maker?"

"He was a white abolitionist from Pennsylvania. He was traveling throughout the South and turning as many slaves as he could find, thinking he could start an uprising that way. But he was reckless and threatened to expose all vampires through his antics. Eventually, he was captured. He met the sun not long after he made me."

We sat in silence on the soft grass of the graveyard for awhile, both of us lost in our own private thoughts. I had just met Jackson mere hours before, but his intimate revelation made me feel closer to him. It would have been foolish to trust him outright, but something about his straightforwardness lessened the difficulty of granting him a certain amount of credence.

I began to think of Eric, probably already flying to the Queen's palatial home in Oklahoma. The kiss we shared still danced on my lips and I ached for him to come back to me. Freyda now demanded that he bed her once a _week_ in the new contract. It sickened me to think Eric would have to share his body with such a slimy creature. But I had promised him I wouldn't give up, no matter what the contract said. Jackson was offering a way to get Eric back—it was my obligation to take the plunge.

"Now do you see why it is so important that we earn our freedom, fight for it?" the stillness of the night amplified Jackson's voice and his words reached deep down into the core of my being.

"Yes, Jackson, I do. Tell me how."

* * *

XXIV.

We walked back to my house under the expansive black sky as Jackson detailed the beginnings of what was proving to be a remarkably intricate plan of attack. There were still many errant variables, and I trembled with apprehension when he explained some of the more perilous requirements that were demanded of me. I was scared, yes. I might have even gone so far as to say I was terrified. But when I pictured Eric's soft blue eyes looking into mine, his sensual pink lips begging to kiss me, I knew that there was no alternative. This was it.

With the wedding looming so near there was no time to dawdle or delay. In Jackson I had found a singular candle flame in a murky sea of dark and cruel tyranny, a ray of hope shining through oppressive shadows. He was singing a tune of much-needed inspiration, and I soaked up each and every word.

"We have to play to the King's desire for you; he's been ruminating about you more than even Eric probably realizes. Your smell is intoxicating, and Felipe is one of the greediest vampires I've ever encountered," Jackson spoke easily as we navigated through the Bon Temps cemetery, my car keys clinking lightly in my hand.

"Do you think he'll come looking for me now that the divorce has been finalized? Now that Eric is…gone?" The words hurt as I uttered them. I couldn't help but to recall Pam's prediction that it was only a matter of time before Felipe decided to attack me.

"I've worked with the King long enough to know he does not deal well with disappointment. Eventually, yes—he will come after you. But we're not going to give him that chance. You're going to go _to him_."

Jackson's voice was calm and even but I had to steady myself as I stumbled over some sharp rocks in the ground. Go visit Felipe? Offer my blood up like a lamb for the slaughter? Present myself willingly to the bloodthirsty vampire King so he could suck me drier than a raisin? I struggled to comprehend the meaning behind all of this, but before I could protest Jackson spoke again:

"We cannot wait. Guarding you in anticipation that Felipe will come could take weeks, even months. Sookie, you must go on the offensive. The time to act is now," the sheriff had stopped walking and was gazing down at me in the moonlight. I saw more than just his individual desires residing in his brown, almond-shaped eyes—reflected within them I could see my own hopes as well. We both wanted, _needed_ freedom from the King and from the perpetual cycle of subjugation.

Jackson's history of abuse and enslavement dated back to the 18th century, I could not bear to think of it continuing on even after his death, during his life as a vampire. And I had for too long been the helpless victim of the treacherous injustices administered by the undead. Though my fear was steadily escalating, I knew he was right.

"Okay. But how am I supposed to _go to_ Felipe? Sam said he was heading to his palace in New Orleans. How will I get there, gain access?" My worried tone sounded strange in the serenity of the night.

I knew enough about vampire royalty and the fierce privacy and protection they utilized at their homes to realize it would not be easy to just waltz inside. Visiting Sophie-Anne at her compound when she was Queen had been a herculean task better suited to James Bond than to a small town waitress. Was I just supposed to bat my eyelashes and wave my wrist in front of the King's guards to entice them to let me in?

"Believe me, gaining access will be the least of your concerns. Felipe is going to be astonished that you've sought him out, he'll be more than happy to oblige you. It will also take him by surprise and give you the upper hand during the encounter," Jackson retorted assuredly.

"That's, um, comforting," I was still uneasy about this component of the plan. "So what's to stop the King from draining me right then and there?"

"You will go with an escort, a vampire who is one of the King's subordinates. Felipe will not so brazenly defy his contractual term not to harm you in front of his own subject," Jackson walked and talked decisively but my nervousness was palpable.

"Who's coming with me? You? Pam?"

"I'm afraid it would look fishy if I accompanied you. I should be tending to my new duties as sheriff. The King hates Pam and wastes no time in voicing his low opinions of both her and Eric. She's not an option," Jackson looked down at me and his expression was one of curiosity, "do you have any other vampire friends in this area you can trust to make the journey with you?"

I had to think about this for a moment. New Orleans was a five hour drive from Bon Temps and that was not a road trip I cared to make with someone I hardly knew. I also wanted the vampire in question to be someone who wouldn't hesitate to defend me in the event that Felipe got antsy. Just as I had exhausted a litany of possibilities, the most obvious choice came meandering through my mind like a long-forgotten second cousin: _Bill_.

"What about Bill Compton?" I said feigning enthusiasm. Bill and I were still cordial, of course. However, thinking about his trespasses against me—the myriad lies he had fed me and his pillaging of my body in the trunk of a car after I had just saved his life—still left a bad taste in my mouth.

"Bill Compton, the creator of the vampire database? You're friends with him?" Jackson's surprise was slathered all over his face.

"Umm, yea," I was somewhat embarrassed, "he lives right across the cemetery. We used to, um, date."

Jackson seemed to notice my discomfort with discussing the details of my friendship with Bill so he left it at face value and I was grateful for that.

"I sensed no other vampires around the cemetery tonight. You should call him when you get in to make sure he's in town. Bill Compton is a quiet vampire according to Felipe. He certainly doesn't seek out the limelight from what I've inferred. If you trust him, he seems like an appropriate candidate to oversee your trip."

If Bill wasn't at his house I wondered where he could possibly be. He definitely wasn't one to 'hit the town' on a weeknight (or a weekend for that matter), he was more content to stay inside and fiddle with his computer. Nevertheless, despite Bill's deceiving me in the past I did feel he could be trusted enough to ensure my best interests during a visit to the King's estate in New Orleans.

"So, I go to the King with Bill in tow. Felipe may not bite me if he sees I'm with one of his subjects, but how can you guarantee he'll listen to what I've got to say?"

"The only thing Felipe wants more than to taste you is power. He is a fiend for control and he thrives on dominating people. You are going to propose to him an opportunity to satiate his thirst for more authority. You will make him an offer he cannot refuse," Jackson's eyes burned brightly as he said this, cutting through the quietude of the woods.

"And what is that?"

"In exchange for the Queen's death and Eric Northman's life, you are going to offer him the entire kingdom of Oklahoma and all of Freyda's holdings."

"Jackson, forgive me if I'm being rude, but are you familiar with the term 'delusions of grandeur'?"

He let out a hearty chuckle at this comment and I couldn't even begin to fathom his confidence. We were fast approaching my home and my feet were protesting loudly against the maltreatment I had subjected them to. I was tired, hungry, and now defeated by what I dismissed as a farfetched shot in the dark. The light of hope was growing dimmer.

"You think Felipe is going to kill the Queen, free Eric from his marital contract, and take over Oklahoma all because I smell good and say 'pretty please'?"

"With the contract finalized, Eric Northman is now the sole beneficiary of the Queen's estate. He will stand to inherit all of her assets, including her kingdom, if she meets the true death. Eric could in theory kill her himself, but that would result in his arrest and a severe penalty, perhaps even his own demise," Jackson explained patiently as the wind whistled through the trees.

"The King is the only one who can effectually deliver the true death to her—she is well guarded and has a strong protective network. Even the exact location of her palace is kept strictly confidential. Felipe, as another royal, knows where she is and can gain entry to her private quarters without rousing the suspicion of her guards," Jackson's voice was slow and methodical as he etched out the minutiae.

"If Felipe wanted to kill the Queen and take over Oklahoma, why hasn't he done it already? Why does he need me to tell him to do it?"

"Assassinations of royal vampires are extremely difficult to execute. Plus, if the Queen meets the true death at Felipe's hands, that wouldn't necessarily guarantee that he inherits the kingdom. Eric would become the new King, and then Felipe would just have another vampire to kill. Since Eric is over 1,000 years old, I sincerely doubt that's a fight Felipe would take on willingly. That's where you come in."

"I come in to tell the King that Oklahoma is his, that Eric will relinquish it in the event of Freyda's death?"

"Precisely. With your advocacy, I'm sure the King will be more inclined to deliver the true death to Freyda. As I said before, his entire life is ruled by power and control. Another state to add to his collection will be too juicy a proposition for him to ignore."

"And what if he says 'no'? What if I'm standing right in front of him, explaining all of this, and he just flat out says 'no'?"

Jackson turned so his body was facing mine and his eyes blazed forcefully, "Don't LET him say no."

We crossed through my backyard and the security light flicked on, drowning us in its blinding brightness. I looked up at the vampire sheriff and noted the smoothness of his ebony skin, the expression on his face which simultaneously held so much pain, and so much hope. I climbed the first two steps of the back porch and then looked back to find myself almost at eye level with the colossal sheriff.

"I will call Bill tonight and see if he's willing to come with me," I said shakily. The prospect of being anywhere near Felipe de Castro gave me the willies, but if it meant Eric would be free of his kidnapper I would risk anything.

"It doesn't matter if he's willing or not," Jackson said with a subtle grin, "I'm the new sheriff, remember? Just let me know if he needs any…coaxing."

I shuddered at the thought of exactly what Jackson would do to Bill if he resisted, but I was almost positive Bill would say yes. After all, I could argue that he still owed me. The sheriff must have sensed my apprehension because he spoke again, in a soothing voice bathed with reassurance:

"I will come back here tomorrow soon after sundown to see you off, I—"

I interrupted him here, completely unmindful of my rudeness, "Tomorrow? You want me to leave for New Orleans _tomorrow_?" My voice was becoming smaller and smaller as I felt my nerves escalating.

"Why, yes. We have no time to spare," Jackson was stern and matter-of-fact, but yet another concern nudged its way forward in my mind and I couldn't help but voice it.

"Okay but there's just one more thing: if all of this goes well, I convince the King to kill Freyda and Eric relinquishes her kingdom, what are we supposed to do about Felipe then?"

Jackson smiled broadly, it was perhaps his first genuine smile of the entire night and it made him look considerably younger and less imposing.

"We'll worry about that when the time comes," his expression didn't waver and I had to admire his pluck, "Goodnight, Sookie."

He then turned on his heel and took off at vamp speed, leaving me alone to contemplate the task set before me. I looked down at my dirty feet and could actually feel my excessive eyeliner running down my cheeks and creating a raccoon-like effect. I grumbled as I realized I would have to shower before crawling into bed, but before I went inside I spared another look up at the night sky. The stars which I had recently developed an envious hatred for still remained stagnant and immobile; perfectly balanced and predictable when juxtaposed with my own tumultuous life.

Suddenly, a streak of gleaming white light bulleted across the black canvas of the sky and left in its wake a faint trail of incandescence: a shooting star. Somewhere up there, I knew Gran had been watching over me, listening to me, and the beautiful phenomenon was confirmation of this. I wondered if Eric had been looking up at the sky at that moment too, perhaps making a wish. I hoped he had also seen the same star darting across the great beyond, wherever he may be.

* * *

XXV.

I gathered my purse from my car and then trudged inside through the backdoor. After a night of Fangtasia infiltration, haunting tales in the graveyard, and the delineation of a potentially lethal scheme to off the Queen and free Eric, the familiar Stackhouse home felt oddly peculiar in its normalcy. Letting out a deep sigh, I recognized that this was a good thing.

The first thing I should have done was call Bill to see if he'd be available to oversee my trip to New Orleans, but when I picked up my cell phone I found myself scrolling past the B's in the contact list to dial Pam's number. She answered before the first ring had a chance to finish and I was happy to be able to relay Jackson's plan to a third party.

Pam was at first outraged that the sheriff had followed me to the cemetery and she chastised me for leaving the protective wards of my home. However, when I told her that Jackson was hell bent on not only killing Freyda but dismantling Felipe's network of power and freeing us all from his stranglehold, her harsh tone softened considerably.

"Sookie, this is a godsend! If you can convince Felipe to kill Freyda, Eric will be free!" Pam was exuding so much happiness I almost questioned if it was the same downtrodden woman I was with earlier.

"Yea, _IF_. That's the scariest word in that sentence," I stripped off my clothes as I talked into the receiver and began to draw a bath. My feet were aching with all the abuse I had dealt to them, so I figured a relaxing soak in the tub would be better than a shower.

"Sookie, don't doubt yourself. You have that wonderful Fairy voodoo on your side. You're like vampire crack."

Was that supposed to be reassuring?

"Um, thanks Pam. Listen, I have to go now and call Bill. Jackson will be coming by tomorrow to see me off after nightfall. I hope you'll come too," I had to admit it would be nice to see Pam and have the extra support.

"Wait, did I just hear you say you're calling _Bill?_" Pam was obviously flabbergasted and I realized I had to explain.

"Bill's going to be the one to oversee my trip to the King's palace in New Orleans so I have to call him and make sure he's available. He wasn't home—" my words were cut off by guffaws of raucous laughter on Pam's end.

"You're taking a five hour road trip with _Bill Compton?_ Bahahaha! Oh, that's rich," Pam was soaking it all up and I could only roll my eyes at her tactlessness. "I will most definitely be coming to see you off tomorrow night. I wouldn't dare miss the opportunity to wish you both 'bon voyage' on what I'm sure will be an exceedingly awkward journey."

"It won't be _that_ awkward," I defended, even though my voice wasn't as strong and assured as I hoped it would be. Nevertheless, I was glad Pam would be here tomorrow to wish me luck.

I told her goodnight as I grabbed a fluffy blue towel from the linen closet and placed it on the edge of the tub. I sat in the same place where Eric and I had re-forged the blood bond and sighed audibly, remembering the taste of his powerful elixir. I recalled how he had kissed my jugular gently before biting into my flesh and I closed my eyes to relive the sensation of him drinking from me.

I tested the water's temperature with my hand and then dropped the plug after I felt it was warm enough. The bath started to fill up as I dialed Bill's number.

Unlike Pam, Bill took several rings to pick up. I was for a moment fearful that I would be directed to the voicemail box when finally I heard the familiar click of our lines connecting and his characteristically haughty voice answered:

"Hello?" Bill seemed a trifle annoyed that I had called and I had to wonder what on Earth he was doing in the middle of the night that would arouse such a sentiment.

"Bill? It's Sookie. I wanted to ask you something. It's…important," I didn't want to inconvenience him by requesting such a huge favor, but even I could recognize that in these dire circumstances it was absolutely necessary.

"Sookie, I hope you don't take offense to this, but now is not the best time," his voice sounded stiff and completely wooden; he was speaking to me like I was an irksome coworker rather than an ex-lover. I began to wonder how I could have ever been sexually attracted to Bill, but my inner monologue explained without hesitation: _He was your first, and you didn't know any better_.

Though I had long ago stopped harboring feelings for him, I was still a little saddened that Bill seemed to not even want to talk to me anymore. Perhaps he sensed something was amiss through the silence on my end of the phone as he quickly spoke again:

"It's nothing personal, Sookie. It's just that I'm, uh, on a date right now."

My eyes shot open in surprise and I almost dropped the entire bottle of cherry blossom bubble bath into the rapidly filling tub. A _date?_ Bill went on dates? I remembered him seeing a real estate agent after we broke up, but that had seemed more like a maneuver to make me jealous than legitimate affection.

"Oh," I tried to hide my bewilderment but fell well short of the mark, "are you going to be busy tomorrow? I really need your help with something, and I'd rather not ask over the phone."

"I'll be free tomorrow. Come to my house at dusk and we can talk then," I sensed that he was trying to rush me off the phone, but I wasn't complaining.

"Perfect. Thanks, Bill. I'll see you tomorrow evening."

We said our goodbyes and I was happy to be done with the conversation, although I was admittedly curious who he could possibly be going out with.

Finally, the bath was filled with hot water and fragrant bubbles and I slipped into the tub and bathed in the solace. The night had been a crazy mixture of an incognito visit to Fangtasia, a disappointment-filled drive back to Bon Temps, followed by a underhanded plot to kill the Queen with a flash of thinking I was about to die thrown in for good measure. It was quite a lot for a weeknight, but predictability and being me didn't seem to mix.

I rested my head against the porcelain of the bathtub and shut my eyes, simultaneously thankful to be home and worried about the incredible task that had been placed at my feet. I tried to imagine Felipe's reaction to seeing me at his palace—would he start salivating and attack me outright before Bill had a chance to step in? Or maybe he would listen to everything I had to say and then flat out refuse?

It was nerve-wracking to imagine all of the possibilities and I willed myself to push the encounter out of my brain and think about something more appealing, like the strong, capable arms of Eric Northman and how it felt when he wrapped them around me. I thought about the way his blond hair looked after he tousled it with his hands, or after I pulled on it while we made love. I pictured how his hipbones stuck out and created a seductive V which led down to his nether region…

Just as I was finally beginning to achieve full relaxation, my cell phone rang noisily and since it was right next to the tub (and my head), the sound was an unwelcome cacophony. I wiped my hand dry on the blue towel I had set out and then grabbed the phone to check the number. I figured it must be Pam calling back to heckle me some more, or maybe Bill wanting further details about why I needed to see him. But when I looked at the screen, the number came from an area code which I didn't recognize.

"Hello?" I answered cautiously. The sultry voice that met me on the other end made me shoot straight up out of the bath like a dolphin breaching the sea.

"My lover," his manly tone made my heart throb, and rendered me momentarily speechless. I practically screamed into the phone, incredulous and brimming with joy:

"Eric?!"

* * *

XXVI.

I was floored that I was speaking to the one man I thought would be unreachable and I gripped the phone like it was my first born child.

"Where are you? Sam said you were going to Oklahoma," I blurted out the words, unable to control my speech. I could feel his deep voice reverberating through the phone's speaker and the sound was both comforting and exciting.

"I am in Oklahoma City now," Eric also spoke hurriedly, as if he were afraid the conversation would be cut off at any moment, "Sookie?"

"Yes, Eric?"

"I love you."

There was a distinct finality in his voice and I felt haunted by his words.

"I love you too, Eric," I proclaimed without pause. I looked into the mirror and saw my reflection now stupidly standing in the tub with bubbles clinging to my skin. I sat back down, my submersion making the water splash loudly.

"My lover, are you…in the _bathtub_?" Eric now had an air of mischievousness in his tone and I smiled demurely when next I spoke.

"Why, yes, I am in the tub. _Naked_," I added slyly. I heard him let out a low groan of desire and I wished more than anything that he could share the warm water with me.

"I miss you. So, so much…" his voice trailed off into oblivion and I closed my eyes, relishing his beautifully masculine tone, "I keep on thinking about the way you kissed me tonight."

The funny thing was I couldn't stop thinking about the way _he_ had kissed _me_. His tongue had made sparks fly wildly throughout my body with an electricity I never dreamed possible. His touch was powerful, his eyes were magnetic. To imagine that I had also created the same emotion in him was overwhelming and remarkable.

"Eric," I breathed into the receiver, "you made me feel complete again tonight. I couldn't bear it if I never got to taste your lips again."

"Don't even speak those words, we _will_ be together again," he growled forcefully. I felt the joy building inside of me, but my happiness faltered as he spoke again.

"I wish I could listen to you talk for hours, you sound so alluring, Sookie. But I'm afraid I don't have much time. Freyda is attending to some business at the moment but she has many guards, both human and vampire. It's really a miracle I was able to steal one of the human's cell phones to call you, but I can't use it forever. Did the shifter relay to you and Pam what happened at the meeting?"

"Sam told us everything. He told us how the Queen was making you leave and claimed all of your assets and how she pushed the wedding up to Saturday and how she wants you to have sex with her once a week—"

"I will _never_ bed that woman as long as I walk this Earth," his voice was now venomous and I shivered at the fury it held, "and that is why I am planning my escape from this accursed place."

"Escape? But Eric, you're bound by the contract. What will happen if you come back to Louisiana?"

"I do not care. All I know is I must leave this place. I cannot bear another moment without you. I will return to Shreveport and alert Pam then come to Bon Temps to take you away," he now sounded like he'd been driven mad in his anger and frustration.

"Take me away?" my head was swimming with confusion, "Eric, I don't want to go away, listen I think I know how to save you—" his voice cut me off with all the sharpness of a guillotine:

"The penalty will be great if I spurn the contract. If they find me I'll be forced to go in front of a council. With Felipe's blessing, I'll surely meet the true death. We cannot stay in Louisiana. We must _leave_, Sookie. To another country, another continent. We will assume new names and live new lives. Together."

Eric was beseeching me, begging me to understand and go along with his desperation. I hadn't even had a chance to explain how Jackson had come to me with a plan, how I was traveling to see Felipe, how I was fighting for our freedom. I talked slowly, trying to project reassurance.

"I've lived in Bon Temps my whole life Eric, I'm not going to be run out of town by an evil vampire King and a sadistic vampire Queen."

"It's not safe there anymore, Sookie. Our only choice is to go," I felt the pain and madness in Eric's voice and though I empathized with him, I knew that he was being unreasonable.

"No, Eric," I said powerfully, "this is my home. I won't abandon it and neither will you. I have a plan to set you free. We're _not_ running away."

The line was silent for a moment and I could tell Eric was contemplating what I had just said. I knew he would be livid from the new contract and the Queen's impositions on him, but his ideas were irrational.

"You have a plan? To save me?" his deep voice now bore a timid tone.

"Eric, you should hardly be surprised. I promised I wouldn't give up on you. No matter what," I brought my fist down to reiterate my point but ended up splashing water in my face. With my free hand I wiped my eyes then attempted to enlighten my estranged lover.

"Jackson came to me after I got home from Fangtasia. He wants to help you," I spoke clearly but urgently, I knew time was of the essence.

"Sookie, be careful. I have heard that Jackson is a vicious vampire—"

"No, he's not. You didn't see the side of him that I saw tonight. He is gentle and kind. He wants freedom from the royals just as much as you do," I said with as much emotion as I could muster. Eric did not protest so I continued rehashing the key components of the plan, being sure to tell him that he would need to relinquish the kingdom of Oklahoma to Felipe in the event of Freyda's death. When I finished I took a deep breath, waiting for Eric's response.

"You're going to go directly to the King, potentially risking your safety in the process, all for me?" he sounded solemn.

"I would risk everything for you," I spoke resolutely and unapologetically. This had become much more than just a grudge match against Freyda, I was now fighting for my freedom to live my life the way I wanted to live it—with Eric by my side.

"You are too good for me, Sookie Stackhouse. Far too good…" Eric's tone was bleak and supremely depressed. It rocked me to my core to hear him like that and I had to choke back tears in order to continue.

"Just wait it out for a few more days. Try to steal a different guard's cell phone tomorrow night and call me, I'll tell you what happens with the King," I didn't want to get off the phone with Eric, but I knew he was putting himself in harm's way by just talking to me.

"I'm going to attempt to return this phone stealthily so that the guard does not notice. I'll pray to whatever god who will listen for your protection tomorrow," Eric spoke slowly and I winced as I sensed our conversation coming to a close, "I love you, Sookie Stackhouse."

"I love you too, Eric Northman. I'll be fine, don't worry about me. Please, don't do anything reckless. Please _trust_ me with this."

"I trust you with my life."

We whispered goodnight into each other's ears and then reluctantly hung up. I was left with only the smooth echo of his voice ringing throughout my head and an even stronger determination than before to set him free. The bath water had by this time grown cold and my fingers were like prunes, but I couldn't pull myself out of the tub. Everything rested on me now, on ensuring that I convinced Felipe to kill the Queen. I could only pray that the vampire King agreed.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**My dear, sweet, loyal readers, **

**I realize it may get repetitive seeing these excessively overzealous thank you's at the end of each chapter, but I CARE NOT. I'll keep on saying it until the cows come home: you all are ****amazing****. Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every comment, every follow, and certainly every favorite. You inspire me. **

**Now, I know this chapter was rather wordy and perhaps a bit dialogue-y, but I felt it was necessary to not only introduce you to Jackson and his background, but also to set the stage for the bloodbath that is sure to follow. To be honest, I went ham writing this chapter. It was supposed to be *much* longer but I decided to split it up, so as not to burden your weary fingers with superfluous scrolling. Please stay tuned-the next installment is right around the corner :D**

**-Peach**


	5. Chapter 5

XXVII.

The next morning brought sheets of rain crashing down onto the roof of the old Stackhouse home. The sound of frogs and toads bellowing in the woods filled my ears and the sun was hidden behind thick, dark clouds making the whole world seem gray. I lay in my bed listening to the storm raging outside and echoes of Eric's voice resonated in my memory.

_I trust you with my life_, he had said urgently before hanging up the stolen cell phone. The true meaning behind his words hadn't fully hit me the night before, but I now felt dizzy with all of the power they held. He was relying on me where so many times in the past I had relied on him.

Although Eric was always one to be stoic and unaffected, his tone last night was desperate and anxious. He needed me. I reached over to the empty side of the bed where he had laid so many times before and bunched up the lonely sheets in my hand. I needed him too.

I had played the damsel in distress before, but now it was my turn to be the savior. Jackson's plan might be one in a million, but surprisingly I was willing to take those odds. Eric made me feel alive with an intensity that left me awestruck. Being with him I knew what it was to be loved—completely and unconditionally loved. So many people would never experience that sensation, or would experience only a cheap bastardization of the inexplicable feeling.

I couldn't deny my fear at going to see the King in New Orleans, but if it meant even an inkling of hope that I could be reunited with Eric I was determined. He would do the same for me, and likely a great deal more. To not at least attempt to rescue him from the horrible fate of marrying Freyda would be a tragedy. Though I knew it was futile given the great distance between us, I concentrated on projecting my love through the bond with my estranged ex-husband, hoping he might somehow feel it even in his sleep.

The rain pounded on the tin roof relentlessly as I rolled out of bed. I checked my calendar and saw I was working the lunch shift, which was all well and good since I needed to meet Bill at dusk and embark on the long journey south shortly thereafter. I made myself scrambled eggs with cheese and scooted up to the creaky wooden kitchen table to eat.

It was odd to have the solitude of an empty house after the previous night of upheaval. The quietude was punctuated by the incessant _tap-tap-tap_ of rain drops, and as I got up to wash the dishes I looked out of the kitchen window at the damp world beyond. The oak tree swayed mournfully with the wind and its branches clapped against the side of the house in a slow applause.

Retreating to my bedroom to get dressed in my work uniform and sneakers, I noticed my cell phone flashing with a new message. I snatched it up greedily, hoping it was from Eric, but my heart sank a notch as I saw the text had come from Jason:

_Sookie come by the house ASAP. Worried about you._

I remembered how our last conversation in a booth at Merlotte's had met an abrupt end after my brother noticed the divorce wound on my wrist and I berated myself for not trying to set things right. I made a mental note to stop by Jason's after work as I picked up my purse and headed out the back door.

Puddles of water had formed throughout the backyard creating brown, muddy pools and I began planning the route to my car to avoid them. I contemplated using my umbrella, but the distance from the porch to the driver side door couldn't have been more than fifteen feet. Thinking of how cumbersome it was to squeeze into a car while simultaneously trying to fold up a sopping wet umbrella, I decided my best bet was to make a mad dash for it.

I rushed out into the torrential downpour and yanked the car door open, slamming it shut behind me. The driving rain sounded even louder in the car, and I fumbled with the keys to crank up the engine and begin the short drive to work. The radio clicked on and I heard an announcer's chipper voice cutting through the howling wind of the raging storm:

"It's going to be a wet one today, Renard Parish! Scattered thunderstorms are anticipated for the whole afternoon and early evening. Try to stay dry out there, folks!"

_Too late,_ I thought as I ran my fingers through my damp ponytail and looked down at my now see-through white t-shirt.

I turned into the driveway of Merlotte's and saw the customer parking lot was completely empty, not even the usual early birds were outside waiting for opening time. I wasn't too shocked given the abysmal weather. When I pulled up to the back of the bar, I saw Sam standing under the awning with one of those large, black golf umbrellas people use at funerals. He bustled over to my door and courteously held the umbrella out for me so I wouldn't have to repeat the Olympic sprinter routine.

"Thanks so much, Sam," I said gratefully. We walked to the back door staying close together, and the cold air conditioning blasting inside made me shiver when it hit me. I stowed my purse then met my boss at his usual spot behind the bar.

"I'm glad you showed up. Holly called in sick and Antoine just left on his vacation to Florida." Sam's eyes were a dark and vibrant blue and they looked at me with the familiar kindness I had come to appreciate over the years.

"You know me! Always Miss Reliable," I replied sarcastically. Sam let out a chuckle at this as we both knew I was perhaps the most_ un_reliable waitress that worked at Merlotte's. To be fair though, my absences were often through no fault of my own.

"Looks like it's going to be a slow day," he said as I began placing napkins and silverware on the tables. Just as he spoke, a deep rumble of thunder sounded outside, violently shaking the hanging light fixtures. I had to grin at this coincidence, and Sam's prediction couldn't have been any truer.

* * *

XXVIII.

By the time one o'clock came it was still just Sam and I at the empty bar. Not only was it a Wednesday (a historically slow day), but it was the worst thunderstorm Bon Temps had seen in years. We took up residence in a booth near the door as the rain pounded outside and cracks of lightning illuminated the gray sky. Sam whipped up a cheeseburger and fries for me and I ate like a glutton, realizing my breakfast had been a bit on the light side.

"Thanks again for last night Sam. I can't tell you how much it meant for you to stick your neck out for me like that."

"Don't mention it, Sookie. I'm glad I could help." He spoke genuinely, but with a worried tone buried in his voice. "It seemed like Eric was really in a bind." Sam looked inquisitive and I could tell he was trying to figure out what my next move would be.

"The situation is bad, but it's not hopeless. I have a plan." I tried to project confidence but the thunder booming outside didn't do much to lighten the mood. Sam's eyes brightened and his thoughts came flooding into my head, overwhelming the quiet country music playing over the speakers:

_What's she going to get herself into now…Better not be too dangerous…So scared for her…She doesn't realize how ruthless those vampires are…They could drain her dry in less than a minute..._

I realized Sam would not be happy about my decision to drive down to New Orleans and speak directly with the bloodthirsty King, but I told him anyway. His eyes got bigger and bigger with horror as I spoke and I sensed disapproval rolling off of him in waves not unlike the sheets of rain coming down outside. When I finished, he exhaled sharply and rustled his already messy hair with a nervous hand.

"Jesus Christ. Do you know how that vampire was talking about you last night? Like you were a _piece of meat_. He wants to _eat you_, Sookie. I saw the look in his eyes. He's dangerous and evil. You can't go directly to him!"

"I can and I will." I was planning for this reaction but I was already resolved in my decision. His eyes met mine and their ocean blue color swirled with a storm of pain and sadness. I reached across the table and put a comforting hand on his.

"I'll be fine, Sam. Promise," just as I spoke the door chimed to alert us that a customer had arrived. I peeked around the booth and saw Jane Bodehouse, Bon Temps' resident alcoholic scurrying in from the wetness. Her eyes surveyed the empty bar and as she met my gaze she spoke in a mousy voice:

"Ya'll open? I could really use a beer."

Sam picked up my empty plate and scooted out of the booth in a huff.

"Yeah, we're open," he said as he power walked toward the kitchen. Jane settled into a stool at the bar and I walked over to take her order, biting the tip of my pen anxiously. I knew it was going to upset Sam to tell him the plan, but it was important he knew what was happening. He was my best friend and he'd just done me an incredible favor the night before. He at least deserved honesty.

The rest of the day went slowly, but as the rain began to subside, more and more patrons started filtering in. I soon found myself racing about trying to keep up with all of the tables. By the time my shift was over and India waltzed in to relieve me, Merlotte's was half full. I untied my apron and threw it into the laundry bin as I walked toward the kitchen to say goodbye to Sam.

He was at the grill flipping burgers and trying to concentrate on the steadily growing pile of orders. I could tell he was cursing himself for letting our cook, Antoine, take such a long vacation, but Sam was no slouch in the kitchen.

"I'm heading out now, Sam. See you later?" I half asked and half stated. Sam turned around and looked pleadingly into my eyes. I hoped he wasn't trying to voice another protest—I was going to New Orleans with or without his approval, but without would be harder.

"Sookie, you know I don't want you to go. But I guess love can make us do some crazy things."

Images of Jannalyn began flooding his mind and I could easily argue that Sam dating a homicidal psychopath was crazier than me visiting the King and begging him to kill one of his fellow monarchs.

I smiled demurely at him as I brought my arms up to release my ponytail from the stranglehold of its hair tie. "Ain't that the truth."

Just as I turned to walk out of the steamy kitchen, Sam's voice caught me mid-step. "If you get a chance, give me a ring and let me know you're okay. You know I'll be out of my mind with worry."

A rush of guilt came over me with his words but I knew the least I could do was provide him with some peace of mind. "Of course, Sam. I'll let you know how it goes tonight."

Sam gave me a subtle grin then turned back to the grill to continue working. I shook out my hair and hurried out the back door, the scent of French fries and gumbo wafting out after me. The rain drops were now falling more sparsely but the air was still thick with humidity.

I scooted into my car and listened to the periodic _plop-plop-plop_ of the droplets before starting the engine. Peering out the windshield I observed the gray scenery outside. The sun was obviously taking a break for the day. I looked at my watch to calculate how much time I had till nightfall, when I would be thrust back into the world of the undead.

* * *

XXIX.

Jason had surely gotten the day off from the road crew given the weather, so I decided to stop by and see him, remembering the worried text I read in the morning. The drive only took a few short minutes even though I was going extra slow through the flooded parts of the streets. Before I knew it, I was pulling into the very muddy driveway and parking behind his old Dodge Ram. I stepped into the mushy ground and continued up to the doorstep but Jason came hurtling toward me from the side of the house.

"Hey, Sook!" he called out breathlessly. He was wearing Levis, his work boots, and nothing else. The rain made his tanned skin glisten in the dim gray light.

"What on Earth are you doing outside in this weather?"

"Oh, I was just skipping stones on the water when I heard you pull up. You should see how high the lake's gotten!" He spoke with the childlike excitement that was so typical of him and his happiness at enjoying such a simple pleasure made me grin.

"That's nice, Jason but let's go inside. You're already soaked to the skin."

Thankfully he didn't argue and proceeded to first open the screen door and then the oak front door for me. It was toasty in the house and I settled into a comfortable La-Z-Boy in the living room. Jason kicked off his wet boots outside then followed me in, grabbing a bag of potato chips off the counter before he settled into the couch across from me.

"So you got my message?" he began, his dark eyes inquiring. "Michele and I felt real bad about leaving Merlotte's like that."

"That's all right, I knew you were upset. But I'm fine now, see?" I lifted up my wrist to reveal the now smooth and uninjured skin which Eric had healed when I met him at Fangtasia. My brother's eyes opened wide, disbelieving. He paused mid-chew before swallowing a mouthful of barbeque chips and exclaiming:

"Whoa, mama! Wasn't it just a couple days ago you had that huge cut?"

"Yes, but Eric healed me. It wasn't his fault," I added quickly, answering the question that had popped into my brother's brain before he could voice it. "The vampire King of Louisiana forced us into a divorce which is where the cut came from."

"Huh?" Jason's eyes had glazed over before I even finished the sentence. My brother was many things, but smart as a whip was not one of them. I decided to keep my explanation short and sweet for his sake, lest I trouble his simple mind.

"I wanted to stop by and tell you that I'm going to New Orleans tonight to talk to the King about my divorce from Eric," I started slowly, "I just wanted you to be aware in case—"

_In case what, exactly?_ I thought to myself. I knew it wasn't any help to dwell on the negatives, but there were many terrible scenarios to consider. Felipe could kill me. That was a very real possibility. Bill could betray me (again) and assist the King in carrying out my murder. That was a slightly more unlikely possibility, but once the wheel of worst case scenario started spinning it tended to get out of control.

I shook my head, willing the antagonism to escape and looked back at Jason with his expression of confusion. He had stopped munching on the potato chips but his mind was blazing a mile a minute:

_Damn it, Sookie…What the hell's going on...Can't lose her, she's all I got left…My baby sister…_

His thoughtfulness touched me so deeply I sprang forth from the recliner and sat down on the couch next to him, hugging him close.

"Don't worry about me, Jason. I'll be back in time for your wedding, scout's honor."

I felt Jason's apprehension steadily subsiding with my reassurance. I knew it would have been wrong to bombard him with all the details and dangers of the plan I was undertaking. It was my burden to shoulder, not his. I had already dragged Sam down into the snake pit with me and I refused to subject my brother to the same inequity.

I decided to shift the conversation to a more lighthearted topic, but before I could even speak the front door swung open and Michele bustled in from work and greeted me with a warm (albeit damp) embrace.

"Hey, future sister-in-law," she beamed at me, "I'm so glad to see you!" and I could tell from her thoughts that she really was. She sat on the opposite side of Jason and gave him a quick peck on the lips. I felt the welcome coziness that can only be garnered by being with family, and I relished the joyful moment.

We briefly discussed the outrageous weather before moving onto the wedding. Michele's eyes lit up when she began asking me about dress colors and catering and flowers and the appropriate number of people to invite, but I eventually noticed boredom painting Jason's face. I had to chuckle when I realized how arbitrary all of this wedding-talk was to the groom. Michele stopped midway through a contemplation of gardenias versus tulips and took in his blank expression, letting out a hearty laugh to match mine. Tossing her auburn hair behind her shoulder, she got up from the couch and headed for the kitchen.

"I hope you'll stay for supper tonight, Sookie. I'm making steak!"

A pang of disappointment came over me as I realized I would most definitely _not _be staying for supper. Though the intermittent rain still continued, the sky was steadily darkening, an ominous harbinger of the evening. I knew what had to be done.

A burn began in the pit of my stomach and I recognized it instantly: fear—awful, rotting fear. I looked in the faces of my lovable brother and his fiancé and felt an inexplicable sadness at having to leave the snug familiarity of their home for the black abyss of the night. Though Michele put on her sweetest Southern voice to try and tempt me, I waved off her kind offer and hugged Jason goodbye. The oak door shut behind me with an eerie finality.

Outside the wind screeched in a high-pitched whistle and my shoes squished in the saturated ground as I walked to my car. The rain droplets were now heavy and scarce, occasionally hitting the top of my head and shoulders with the cruel authority of a judge's gavel. I once again found myself behind the wheel of my car and looked upwards at the stormy clouds which seemed uncomfortably low in the sky.

Being with Jason and Michele, experiencing their understated love and affection, had made me feel curiously happy, curiously normal. I revved up the engine and began backing out of the drive way, my fear growing by the minute.

_Can't lose her, she's all I got left, _Jason had thought desperately. A rush of melancholy flooded me as I considered the possibility of my brother outliving me due to a premature death by vampire. I pictured him planning my funeral and picking out a coffin and I had to suppress hot tears which threatened to rise. As I drove toward my home on Hummingbird Road, the gray sky fast turning black, I realized I felt something else in spending that casual time with my family. I felt human.

* * *

XXX.

I estimated less than an hour till full dark, so I hopped into the shower straight away when I got home. I was determined to wash off all of the rain and grime that was tainting me. I turned up the water temperature as hot as it would go and stood in the scorching stream, enjoying the welcome change from the frigid rain drops that had plagued me all day. I scrubbed and shampooed and stomped out of the shower in ten minutes flat, drying myself off with the same fluffy blue towel I had used for my bath the previous night.

I walked into the bedroom and looked in my closet, wondering what constituted an appropriate outfit for meeting a murderous vampire King. Surely I should wear something dark, or maybe even red? I looked out the window at the grim and muggy world beyond and thought: _to hell with the depressing color palette._ I selected a cheerful, yellow sundress with a white floral pattern and an elegant tie in the back. I had some matching yellow wedges with a cork bottom and a white flower headband for my hair as well. In all of the darkness, I looked like the sun.

Since I still had about fifteen minutes to spare until nightfall had officially set in, I decided to ham it up even more and applied pastel pink gloss to my lips and a tasteful amount of mascara to my lashes. I surveyed myself in the mirror, enjoying the effect. I stowed the gloss and mascara in my purse for future application as it surely wouldn't last for the entire five hour drive to New Orleans.

Giving myself a last once-over, I realized something critical was missing. I looked down at my dresser and ran my fingers along the old jewelry box which had been Gran's and was now mine. I opened it up and saw a medley of precious gems, pearls, and even diamonds. I extracted a long silver chain with a heart pendant on it and held it up to my chest. I remembered Gran wearing it when she went to church, and feeling it in my hands now it seemed to emanate a strange comfort. I clasped it definitively around my neck and played with the charm in the mirror.

Pawing through the box some more I found a gorgeous pair of silver hoops for my ears and a silver bracelet and ring. I hardly ever wore so much jewelry, but something told me it was right and I didn't think the effect was the least bit gaudy. I hit the lights and then retreated down the hallway to exit through the backdoor. After locking up I jumped into my car and began the short drive to Bill's.

Though Bill was my closest neighbor and lived only a brisk five-minute walk across the cemetery, I thought it was better to drive purely out of caution. I still could recall the terrifying sensation of a stranger's hand grasping my shoulder in the cemetery the previous night, and I didn't want to relive that, even if it had been a friendly hand.

The rain had completely abated but steamy mist rose up off the pavement and added to the gloominess of the night. As I pulled up to Bill's antebellum house, I saw him sitting on the wide porch in a rocking chair. He was waiting for me.

I parked and then cut off the engine, emerging from the car slowly. I realized I still had the job of _convincing_ Bill to agree to this wild goose hunt, and my mouth went dry in anticipation. I ascended the creaky porch steps and walked over to the vampire who was sitting still as a statue, not a hint of momentum in the rocking chair. He had a TruBlood in his hand and his lips were tinged a deep scarlet from the beverage.

"Hey, Bill."

"Sookie," he stood and placed the bottle of synthetic blood on the windowsill, "you look beautiful."

Bill's voice held the characteristic tone of a Southern gentleman, exhibiting a cadence that was quickly becoming a rarity in the modern technological age. His skin was inhumanly pale, with a waxy quality more akin to one of Madame Tussaud's lifeless figures. I searched his eyes and saw they were brooding with a lustful hunger. Though he had told me he was on a date just last night, I could easily sense that his desire for me still remained intact. I didn't need to read his thoughts to know that.

"Thanks," I responded shortly. "You look…um…" I trailed off aimlessly, struggling to find an adjective to describe my ex-boyfriend. Stately? Genteel? _Dead_?

Bill smiled easily and I let out a smooth exhale, thankful that he wasn't as stiff as he looked.

"Everything has changed, and yet nothing has," he responded cryptically. He was eyeing me with a forlorn expression and I knew he was contemplating our past relationship. I wanted to keep this encounter strictly business, so I wasted no more time in plunging into my request.

"I came to you tonight because I need a favor—"

"Anything," Bill's voice interjected intensely. His eyes bore into mine as he spoke.

"I need you to take me to see Felipe de Castro at his palace in New Orleans."

"Sookie, when I said anything I didn't mean…" now it was his turn to trail off. His expression held wonder, incredulity. A sallow color spread over his pale ivory skin and I sensed the beginnings of a refusal brewing in the void of his undead mind.

"There was once a time when you wouldn't have even thought twice when I asked you for a favor!" My boldness surprised even myself, and Bill's eyebrows shot up at the elevated volume of my words. The tree branches overhanging the porch rustled in the rolling wind.

He took a step closer to me, probably hoping his proximity would increase my understanding. "That is still true. I would do anything for you, Sookie. Anything to have you back," his voice lulled deeply, "but favors don't typically entail _risking your life_."

"Oh, so you weren't _risking my life_ when you nearly drained me in the trunk of a car?" I shot back menacingly. Perhaps it was unfair to rehash the past, but my anger at his betrayal still brimmed inside of me. Bill blinked several times then averted his gaze to the damp floorboards of the rickety porch. My words had stung him enough that he could no longer meet my eyes.

"Sookie, if it was in my power I would say anything, do anything so that you could overcome the pain I caused you. I would do it in a heartbeat. Please, you must start forgiving me."

"Why should I?"

"Because you're hurting me."

Bill's words echoed in the night as he looked up at me desperately. I saw dark red tears coursing down his cheeks and the sadness in his face left me speechless. I felt a blanket of guilt building up deep in the pit of my stomach. It was true that Bill had exacted evils upon me that no woman should ever have to endure, but a small part of me knew, had always known, that he had not acted in cold blood.

One of the scariest things about vampires rests in their very nature—their thirst and their disturbingly animal need to quench that thirst. When I rescued Bill from the King of Mississippi's clutches he had been starving, tortured for days and driven mad by his hunger. I was the unfortunate victim of his ravenousness, and I had paid for it not only with my blood but also with my body and my heart. I had still loved Bill at that time, and the most painful part of the entire horrible encounter was the abdication of my trust in him.

We stood on the porch in the deadening silence of the black sky, only the buzzing of insects breaking the cloying quiet. I looked at his tortured expression, the red streaks besmirching his impossibly white skin. Could I find it in my heart to forgive him?

Bill broke our staring match and extracted a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his tears away. He grabbed the bottle of TruBlood off the windowsill and took a swig; the image reminded me of my long-departed father drinking a beer when he watched Sunday Night Football. I wrung my hands nervously, unsure how I should proceed, but Bill's voice broke the air first:

"What do you have to say to the King? What can you possibly gain by going to see him?"

"Everything."

* * *

XXXI.

It took only a few short minutes to fill Bill in on the happenings of the last few days. I told him of the Queen's snaking onto my back porch to steal Eric away, the diabolically revised marital contract, and the sheriff's newly proposed plan to have me convince Felipe to kill Freyda by promising him the kingdom of Oklahoma. Bill looked solemn, but he did not interrupt.

"Do you understand the dangers this holds?" he asked me bluntly after I had stopped to take a breath.

"Of course. But in the contract there is a caveat that Felipe must not harm me, and he's not going to renege on that in front of his own subject. That's where you come in." My voice was now airy and light and I was glad we were off the topic of Bill nearly killing me in Mississippi and were instead talking about another vampire potentially killing me in New Orleans. The latter was somehow much less anguishing.

"All this for Eric Northman," Bill spat out hatefully.

"Hey, this isn't just about Eric. This is about me too. If I don't get him back…I'll be empty forever." Bill winced as I spoke these words and I knew it pained him to hear me profess my love for another man. He tossed the empty bottle of TruBlood from hand to hand, obviously ruminating on the haphazard plan.

"You do not know what forever is, I assure you." He sounded utterly defeated and I had to contemplate how very different a human's forever is in comparison to a vampire's forever.

"Decades and decades of immortality and you're still playing the cynic?" I probed quietly. I saw a quick grin flash across Bill's somber countenance. Had I finally gotten through to him?

"Still, this is really none of my concern," he remained dubious. "Why don't you ask Pam to accompany you?"

"Pam can't come. She's Eric's progeny and Felipe doesn't trust her. He'll be suspicious if I show up with her. It has to be you." I didn't want to devolve into begging, but if that's what it took to convince him, then so be it.

"Well what about Palomino, or one of the bartenders from Fangtasia. Surely someone else could—"

"No, Bill. There's nobody else," there was now a harsh edge to my voice, "I am coming to you and I am asking for your help. _Please_." I entreated my ex-vampire-lover with my eyes and finally felt his defensive walls crumbling like Ancient Rome.

"Okay. I will do it."

"Thank you, Bill. Thank you," I walked over to hug him, being sure to mind the silver jewelry I was wearing. I felt him tense up at my closeness; his body was cold as ice and stiff as a freshly starched shirt.

"Something the matter?" I asked in a small voice.

"It's just that New Orleans is five hours away. Even if we leave now there's no way we could make it back here before dawn."

"That won't be a problem," a deep voice came booming out of the woods abutting Bill's house and Jackson and Pam emerged quickly, appearing with us on the front porch in the blink of an eye. No matter how much I experienced it, vampire speed never ceased to amaze me.

I looked over and saw Bill's fangs were bared, obviously hostile about the unwelcome intrusion.

"Oh, please. Put your fangs away, Mr. Compton. I am your new sheriff, Jackson Freedman," Jackson smiled amiably and he shot me a good-natured wink. He was wearing a dark suit and the same blinding diamonds gleamed brightly in his ears.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Freedman," Bill spoke politely and retracted his fangs, although I could tell he was far from pleased.

Pam sauntered over and gave me a one-armed half-hug. She had one of those big, fancy Italian handbags on her shoulder and her leather pants were so tight it was a wonder how she could manage to sit down in them. Perhaps she didn't.

"Well done, Sookie," Pam spoke in a drawl, "Jackson and I had a little bet going that you wouldn't be able to convince Bill on your own," she flashed a smile, "I'm happy to report that I am the winner."

"Jackson, you should have never doubted me!" I smiled broadly at him.

"Forgive me for being the bearer of bad news," Bill began abruptly, "but there seems to be a hitch with this 'plan'," he spoke the last word while bringing his fingers up to make air quotations and Pam rolled her eyes. "How are we supposed to make it down to New Orleans, speak to the King, and drive back before dawn?"

"As I said before, that will not be a problem," Jackson's gravelly voice cut in, "I have arranged for your stay at the Zanna Bianca Hotel in New Orleans."

I gasped. The Zanna Bianca was touted as the "Ritz-Carlton" of undead resorts, and it was one of the fanciest vampire hotels in the South, if not _the _fanciest. I had read about it in a travel magazine while waiting at the dentist's office. The pictures showed vaulted ceilings and beautiful chandeliers in the human rooms and opulent, light-tight vampire rooms with silk sheets on the King size beds. I suddenly felt glad that I had dressed up.

"Wow, Jackson. Thank you so much," I said in disbelief. My mind boggled as I tried to imagine how much a room could have possibly cost at such a historic and upscale hotel, and that's when the lump appeared in my throat. Would Bill and I be _sharing_ a room? Just as I began to ask this, the sheriff seemed to read my mind and answered hastily.

"While there were dual human-vampire rooms available at the hotel, I have booked a vampire room for Bill and a separate human room for you, Sookie."

Hallelujah. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, realizing the time was fast approaching when Bill and I would begin the long drive into the infinite abyss. I looked down at my purse which held only my cell phone, wallet, some lipgloss, and a tube of mascara, and realized I hadn't packed for an overnight trip.

"Well, before we leave I suppose I should go back home and grab a change of clothes and my toothbrush and—"

"Already taken care of," Pam extracted from her oversized handbag a pair of pajamas I recognized from the top of one of my drawers, some jean shorts, a pink blouse, and a plastic bag filled with toiletries.

"Pam, um, you shouldn't have," I said feigning gratitude. I wasn't sure how comfortable I felt that a vampire had been rummaging through my underwear, but Pam and I had actually grown surprisingly close after the ordeal with Eric. It's funny how tragedy can bring people together.

"Eric left his copy of your key at his house in Shreveport. If I've missed anything, the Zanna Bianca has a very capable concierge service." Pam then thrust the entire Italian leather handbag into my arms and I looked at her with curiosity.

"You're giving me the whole purse?"

"A small token of my appreciation," Pam said sincerely.

"Wow," I looked down at the fine leather, running my hands over the soft exterior and admiring the impeccable stitching.

"Don't get too excited. It's from last season," Pam's signature deadpan humor was back.

"Interesting though designer handbags are, I need to go inside and collect some things for myself," Bill cleared his throat haughtily. He marched into his house and left us standing on the porch in the sticky humidity.

"Well isn't he just a ray of sunshine," Pam spoke in a falsely sweet voice and I had to smirk. Bill did seem to have a bee in his bonnet, but I couldn't say I blamed him. This was a pretty grand undertaking we were about to embark on.

"He may not be the most enthusiastic but he's the perfect chaperone." Jackson was being practical. "Bill Compton has brought prestige to Felipe's empire with his vampire database and he's well-liked by the King. He doesn't cause trouble, and has proven himself to be trustworthy."

That last point was up for debate, but something about seeing Bill cry had softened the grudge I was carrying for him. Bill emerged with a messenger bag filled with God-only-knew-what and after locking the door he descended the steps to his BMW.

"Oh, I thought we could take my car. You don't have to drive, Bill," I called out, following him down the wooden stairs of the porch.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sookie. I'll drive." He said as he placed his bag in the backseat then went around to the passenger side to open my door for me. If anything, Bill Compton was always a perfect gentleman.

I looked back to Jackson and Pam, my fear rising uncomfortably in my chest like bad acid reflux. Jackson spoke first.

"Good luck, Sookie Stackhouse. Though I'm sure you won't need it," he came down the steps and gave me a gentle hug. Though Jackson towered over me and my face barely came up to his chest, I enjoyed his kind embrace. He pulled away then added, "I like all the silver jewelry too, nice touch." The diamonds in his ears seemed to wink at me as he said this.

Pam then walked over to give me some words of encouragement:

"I hope your journey with Mr. Compton is sufficiently awkward," she said with a dryness that rivaled the Sahara Desert. I rolled my eyes playfully then sat down in the bucket leather seat of the sedan and Bill closed the door behind me. Phase 2 of Operation: Free Eric Northman had commenced.

* * *

XXXII.

The ride was smooth and comfortable and I was glad we had taken Bill's car. I was at first scared that the can of worms concerning the incident in Mississippi would be reopened, but he never mentioned it and neither did I. Our conversation was remarkably light. We discussed the bad weather and how business was going with the vampire database. Apparently Bill wanted to expand, but he would need some clever marketing to do so.

As we reached Alexandria on Interstate 49, I began to wonder if Bill had ever been to see the King at his home in New Orleans before.

"Once we arrive in the city, do you know the way to Felipe's palace?"

Bill looked over at me with a grin, his white skin glowing in the bright moonlight.

"Of course, Sookie. It is my duty as a loyal subject to know where my King resides. How else would I properly pledge my fealty?"

He had me stumped there. I let out a deep yawn and realized how beat I was. It was still relatively early in the evening, but the combination of the dreary rain and the ever-present knot of fear in my stomach had exhausted me. Bill fumbled for the radio dial as the station we were listening to became riddled with static. He pulsed through a mishmash of channels before settling on a classical station.

The chords of an orchestra filled the interior of the car and I leaned my head against the window, enjoying the soft melodies. I tried to hum along but eventually resigned myself to closing my eyes. When I reopened them, I began the sluggish blinks characteristic of an impromptu nap and I immediately wondered how long I had been asleep.

"Where are we?" I asked Bill, suddenly alert. I looked out the window and, still dazed, saw that we had gotten off of the interstate.

"We're already in New Orleans, that was quite a nap you had," he said genially.

"Geez, Bill, I'm sorry! You must have been so bored without anyone to talk to." I did feel bad. Road trips were always tedious, but without another person to engage with they could be downright painful.

"Nonsense, Sookie. I very much enjoyed watching you sleep." Bill cut his eyes over at me slyly and I tried very hard not to understand the implications of his statement.

"How much longer until we're at Felipe's?"

"We're in the neighborhood now."

I gulped audibly. The ball of fear began to expand within me; I could actually feel my stomach stretching with the tension. For a moment I recalled the girl in Willy Wonka who blew up into a giant blueberry, but then I realized that she was full of fruit juice and I was only full of awful anxiety. I again peered out the window and saw sprawling mansions set on huge, well manicured plots of land. As we drove deeper into the neighborhood, the houses became bigger and bigger.

These were estates beyond even the means of accomplished doctors and lawyers: these types of mansions were reserved for notable celebrities and championship professional athletes—those whose incomes ranged well into the millions of dollars. My eyes widened as I saw one mansion with what must have been a twelve foot wrought iron gate encircling it and a gorgeous white fountain in the driveway.

My heart rate began picking up as we drew closer and I knew Bill could sense my nerves clear as day.

"You know, we don't have to do this, Sookie. I could turn back right now. You just say the word." Bill looked eager and I could tell he wanted nothing more than to drive straight to the hotel and whisk me into his light-tight room for a late-night soiree.

"I appreciate that, but no thanks. Nothing in the whole wide world could stop me now," there was boldness in my voice even though my fear was escalating rapidly.

I turned away from marveling at the ridiculously sized homes and closed my eyes, imagining Eric staring back at me. Something about the coolness of his blue gaze and the fine chisel of his cheekbones brought me peace. I reached up to clutch the silver heart charm on Gran's necklace and my nerves subsided slightly. I felt the car slowing to a stop then yanked my eyes back open, the warmth of Eric's image in my mind disappearing like a ghostly apparition.

We had stopped at a guardhouse. There was a long and high brick wall stretching along either side of the gated entrance and I couldn't see the property beyond. The guard wearing gray camouflage attire stepped out of the small structure with a clipboard in his hand. Bill rolled down his window with the electronic switch. I casted out my telepathic net, wondering what I might find, but I was met only with a blank slate.

Of course Felipe would have a vampire at his guardhouse, even if he did look more like a military lieutenant than an undead creature of the night.

"State your name and business please." He sounded bored and his lilting Southern accent contrasted sharply with his austere appearance.

"Bill Compton. I request private counsel with the King."

"Compton…hey, ain't you the one who created the vampire database?"

If Bill could blush he probably would have right at that moment. He was clearly tickled pink by his minor notoriety in the vampire world. I had to stifle a giggle despite my anxiety.

"Yes, that is me."

"You helped me find my long lost brother!" The guard in the head to toe camouflage leaned down to get a better look at Bill. "Our maker died and our only connection had been through him. But using your software, I found my brother easy as pie. He was living in Jackson County, Missouri with a human lady friend, a_ Mormon_. Thanks, man."

"Don't mention it," Bill replied shortly. I had only a brief second to consider whether or not Mormons took kindly to vampirism before the guard began his questioning again.

"Now, what Area do you hail from?" he straightened up and changed back to his business tone, scribbling some notes onto the clipboard.

"Area 5."

"And who's the babe?" When the guard said this, his fangs came down with a definitive _click_ and my heart began thumping in my throat. I again grasped at the silver charm on my Gran's necklace for support.

"This is my associate, Sookie Stackhouse. She also requests His Majesty's counsel."

The guard looked flabbergasted. I couldn't imagine it was often that humans came by to speak to the vampire King.

"She smells amazing," he leaned down and leered at me before mumbling something into a walkie-talkie. A few tense seconds passed before a garbled affirmation sounded over the speaker. "All right, you've been granted clearance. Pull around the circle and a valet will park your vehicle."

Bill muttered his thanks and the wrought iron gate ambled open. After he had rolled up his window I thought it was safe to speak freely.

"A valet? Exactly how fancy is this place?"

"Don't be fooled. It's not about luxury, it's about security. Felipe likes to have all of the cars that come onto his property searched, and a valet service ensures that this happens easily. The keys also must be relinquished, so it's nearly impossible to make a quick escape." Bill's tone was grim but matter-of-fact and I fidgeted in my seat, deeply disturbed by the new information.

We proceeded down a narrow drive with multicolored pavers winding toward the palace. The landscape was dark and sprinkled with gigantic Weeping Willows which obscured the view. I couldn't even see the estate yet, but my anticipation made my blood pump vigorously. Finally, we turned a rather sharp corner and the lights of the amazing mansion greeted my vision.

Six thick white columns supported the façade of the brick structure and my jaw dropped at the sheer size of it. It must have been at least three stories. I could see a grand, two-sided staircase winding upwards through the expansive glass window at the center of the mansion. Armed guards all wore the same gray camouflage uniform and were strategically standing at different points around the building.

Bill pulled the car around the circular driveway and as I looked to my left I noticed a huge fountain in the middle. If I thought the previous fountain I had glimpsed at the other house was impressive, this one put it to shame. Four elegant, white marble dolphins were frozen mid-jump in the deep pool and streams of water burst forth from their mouths. The lights hitting the water changed from blue, to green, to purple, and red as I watched. I was so utterly mesmerized by the display that when a stranger opened my door I jumped about a foot out of my seat.

* * *

XXXIII.

"Ma'am," a vampire in a tuxedo offered me his hand and, realizing it was just the valet, I took it graciously as he helped me out of the car. I situated my purse on my shoulder then straightened up, stiff from the long journey. I was finally able to admire the mansion in front of me. I felt small in the vastness of the palatial home and I was relieved when Bill offered me his arm to walk up the wide stone steps toward the entrance.

One of the camouflaged guards opened the double front doors for us and as we walked inside, I took in a beautiful arrangement of dark red roses on a shiny wooden table in the middle of the room. One dozen, two dozen, three, I couldn't even begin to count. The bouquet was enormous and the vase was amazingly glossy. As I studied more of my surroundings I realized the foyer looked more like the lobby of an expensive law firm. There was even a beautiful secretary sitting behind a sturdy oak desk, which is where Bill was leading me.

"Good evening, Mr. Compton." Though she was a grown woman she had one of those high-pitched childlike voices that irked me to no end. Her dark hair was tied back in a professional high bun and she wore a black business suit. "Welcome to FDC Enterprises. How may we meet your undead needs?"

"My companion and I have requested private counsel with His Majesty," Bill spoke with confidence and I was supremely glad he was here to handle all of the questions. The secretary began consulting a computer screen and my nerves twitched uncomfortably. I looked up like a tourist awestruck by the skyscrapers of New York City and saw the ceiling was so high it made me dizzy.

"Ah, yes. You and Ms. Sookie Stackhouse?" she stumbled over my name then continued speaking without missing a beat, "the King is currently in a phone conference but I will call you when he is ready. If you'll please have a seat in our waiting area," she indicated a room on the other side of the entrance which had plush couches and armchairs.

"Thank you," Bill smiled courteously then began to lead me to the waiting room, but I planted my feet and turned back toward the secretary.

"Excuse me, Miss. Do ya'll have a bathroom I could use?" After a five hour car ride, nature was calling. She looked at me like I was an alien.

"It's been quite some time since I've been asked that question!" She let out an irritating laugh and I put on my best impression of a smile. "There is one on the second floor, but you'll have to be escorted, I'm afraid."

Bill looked at me with apprehension and I shrugged my shoulders. When you gotta go, you gotta go. She pressed some buttons on the keypad of a telephone and within seconds an armed vampire in the military-style camo appeared, ready to take orders.

"Please escort Ms. Stackhouse to the restroom in the East Wing of the second floor," I noticed the secretary's tone deepened slightly when she spoke to him. The vampire nodded his head then turned to me, indicating I should follow. He ascended the hardwood steps of the two-sided staircase and I fluttered behind, holding my purse close against my body.

After a maze of hallways and sitting rooms, we finally reached a ducked off doorway in the far side of the palace. The guard opened the door for me and I bustled in, eternally thankful that he wasn't escorting me _inside_ the bathroom. I flushed and then washed my hands, studying my appearance in the gold trimmed mirror. My hair had stayed intact despite my three hour nap and the headband remained securely in place. After I touched up my mascara and added some more gloss to my lips, I closed my eyes and began to picture Eric again.

My fear was tangible and I knew all the stress was wreaking havoc on my blood pressure, but concentrating on the handsome Viking in my mind's eye brought a curious feeling of relaxation. Without even knowing I was doing it, I began projecting waves of love toward my distant lover through our bond. Just thinking about him helped ease my nerves, and I prayed he could feel me.

Suddenly, an overwhelming sensation of comfort washed over me like I was standing in a magical shower. My anxiety disappeared, my heart rate slowed, and I was so overcome that I fell against the wall behind me, paralyzed. The power of it was incredible. I writhed in pleasure at the ease and love that now seemed to penetrate my entire body and flow freely, beautifully. Eric had indeed felt me, and now I was feeling him.

* * *

XXXIV.

"FDC Enterprises, Nina speaking. How may I direct your call?"

The secretary droned on and on, answering the incessantly ringing telephone as Bill and I waited in a luxurious living room. I was still taken aback by my experience in the bathroom, and my skin tingled with the remnants of the sensation. I took a moment to thank Eric for insisting on reforming our blood bond. It was almost like he had been with me, in my presence, holding me close and instilling confidence and relaxation into me.

"Are you okay, Sookie?" Bill inquired uneasily. I snapped back into reality and realized he had been watching me out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh, I am fan-tastic," I responded truthfully. I didn't even feel nervous anymore, not with Eric's comfort wrapped around me like a security blanket. My heart drummed steadily at a normal pace and I let out a contented sigh. Just as I sensed another question emerging from Bill's mouth, the secretary called out to us.

"Compton party? The King will see you now."

Two camouflaged guards met us as we stood and we followed them up the staircase all the way to the third floor, this time veering toward the West Wing. Several guarded doors were unlocked and then closed behind us as we proceeded down a labyrinth of different passages. We stopped at two cherry red doorways with intricate relief sculptures carved onto them. The guards turned toward us and spoke in unison:

"We now present to you, the noble and most honorable, King Felipe de Castro."

I snorted loudly, unable to suppress my amusement at their pretentiousness. Bill looked daggers at me, but the guards opened the doors without pause.

The room was plated entirely in gold, and I had to squint to adjust to the blinding brilliance. The sheepskin area rug was dyed an unnatural, blood red color and was so thick it looked like a floating island on the hardwood floor. In the back of the room I saw Felipe sprawled out on an elegant four-poster bed which was situated atop a dais. He was wearing a silk bathrobe and basking in all of his repugnant glory.

"Ms. Stackhouse! It's so nice to see you again, and so soon! If I had known you were coming I would have baked you a cake!" Felipe's voice was just as oily as his jet black hair. Bill and I stepped inside the room and the guards shut the doors ominously after we had entered. An entire painting covered the domed ceiling like the Sistine Chapel, only the scene looked like it had come out of Dante's Inferno. The King launched off of the bed at vamp speed and slithered over to us.

"And who is this you have brought with you? Mr. Compton? My dear, I heard you were a fang hopper but this is moving _mighty_ fast!"

He obviously wanted to get under my skin, but I chose to ignore the King's jab. I found it interesting that Felipe instantly recognized that I was the driving force behind this visit, whereas his subordinates downstairs assumed I was merely tagging along with Bill. Call it Kingly intuition.

"I have the honor to be Your Majesty's humble and obedient servant," Bill said with a respectful bow. Felipe looked expectantly at me as if waiting for me to curtsey.

"Yes, um, it's a pleasure to serve you…Your Excellency," I scoffed at my own ostentation and had to launch into a coughing fit to disguise my disgust. Felipe eyed me hungrily and I imagined he was thinking about exactly what I tasted like at that moment.

"Splendid. Now, what brings you to my humble abode this fine evening?" I looked around the opulent golden room and thought "humble" was perhaps the worst adjective to describe Felipe's over-the-top mansion.

"My liege, Sookie has come to you with a request." Bill said with thinly veiled worry. I knew he thought the chances of the King agreeing were slim, but I had an ace up my sleeve.

"Ah. Wait, wait, let me guess," Felipe was toying with me, and my eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly. "You want me to release Eric Northman from his marital contract?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"Not a chance!" he laughed maniacally then retreated back to the huge bed. Bill and I followed him warily. Felipe stretched out on the sheets with his hands behind his head. "There is so much you humans don't understand about vampire affairs. And how could you? You lives are so depressingly brief in comparison to ours. It's…bleak."

The King was smiling a stomach-churning grin and my hatred for him began to rival my hatred for Freyda. I tried to speak again, but Felipe interrupted once more:

"See, if I were human I might actually take pity on you. I might consider your ridiculous absurdities and I might even listen when you so pathetically came groveling at my feet. But, I am no longer even remotely human. I am vampire, and I am immortal."

"Not completely immortal," I barked back at him. If he wanted to play hardball, I was game. "Don't forget, _Your Majesty_, there was once a time when I saved your life."

I was referring to the time when Felipe was attacked by Sigebert, the recently deceased Sophie-Anne's bodyguard. I noticed some discomfort flicker in the King's eyes and I relished having the upper hand in the conversation. I had the sucker on the ropes.

"I am not here to grovel. I am here to make an offer."

Felipe sat up on the bed and his dark eyes surveyed me intensely.

"An offer of what? I assure you, Ms. Stackhouse, there is only _one_ thing I want from you." He leaped off the bed too quick for my vision to process and I suddenly felt him standing behind me with his repulsive hand stroking my hair. My body tensed up as I heard his fangs emerge, but I remained still. Felipe inhaled deeply as he brushed my blond locks away from my neck, exposing my jugular.

"Mmmm," the King let out a guttural growl as Bill came towards us defensively. "Your scent is…orgasmic. So sweet and unique, like an exotic fruit from a tucked away island paradise. Tell me, Ms. Stackhouse, is it your blood you've come to offer?" He wrapped one arm around my shoulder and then pressed his hand to my chest, letting out a shocked yell as he did so. Gran's necklace had burned his bare flesh.

"Silver!" He gasped and then jumped back instantly, releasing me from his loathsome hold. Bill closed the distance between us. When I turned I saw that Felipe was now examining the palm of his hand, which had sprung a thin line of boils where the chain made contact. Suddenly, the two guards from outside burst through the cherry red doors with their guns trained on Bill and I.

"Awaiting orders, Your Majesty," they both said hastily. Did they always speak in unison? The King's eyes blazed at me and I looked at him with all of the innocence of a baby kitten. _Afraid of a little silver necklace, Felipe?_ I goaded him in my thoughts but maintained a doe-eyed expression.

"Leave us." He waved his uninjured hand at the guards and they exited the room and shut the doors once more. "What is your offer, Ms. Stackhouse."

* * *

XXXV.

"Now that I've got your attention," I began slowly, "I'd like to make a proposal. If you kill the Queen of Oklahoma, Eric, the beneficiary of her estate, will surrender her entire kingdom and all of her holdings to you. You will be the sovereign ruler of four states and will become a _very_ wealthy vampire."

Felipe seemed to contemplate, and I noticed the burn in his hand was healing quickly. Bill stayed close by my side as I spoke and his proximity added strength to my voice.

"And how can you guarantee Mr. Northman will surrender Oklahoma to me? What's to stop him from keeping it for himself once Freyda is out of the way?" Felipe sat on the edge of the bed and his cold gaze locked onto mine.

"I am. Eric has agreed to this in order to be with me."

Felipe gave a deep, hearty laugh that signified how ludicrous he thought this was.

"Give up an entire kingdom for a _human_?" He spat out the word as if it made him ill. "I doubt Eric Northman's _love_ for you spans that deeply."

"You don't know that." I sensed Bill growing nervous as I challenged the King, but I was resolute.

"Well, it's a good thing you're confident because, in theory, if Eric were to go back on this offer and keep the kingdom for himself, he would forfeit his little fairy lover to me," his eyes sparkled predatorily at me. "And given your feistiness, Ms. Stackhouse, I doubt you would very much enjoy being my own personal blood bag."

I shuddered at the thought but stood firm in my belief that Eric's love for me would outweigh his desire for power. I put my shoulders back to display my confidence, but Felipe's next words threw me for a complete loop, and I staggered backwards as if the air had been knocked out of me.

"Ms. Stackhouse, your parents died when you were quite young, did they not? And then your Grandmother passed away not too long ago. Such a pity…"

How did Felipe know all of this personal information? Had he been spyingon me? Stalking my entire life's history? What a low blow it was to bring up the pain of my losses now. I wanted nothing more than to spit in his face, but I remained as cordial as was possible under the circumstances.

"Are you always so fascinated by the humans you meet?"

"Not all the humans I meet are so fascinating."

A shiver traveled down my spine and I felt Eric's security blanket unraveling from around me. Felipe's fangs were still descended and he looked like a crazed animal, his pitch black eyes studying me intently.

"Do you know _why_ it is that vampires find you so attractive, Ms. Stackhouse? Why your blood sings such an irresistible song to us? It is not just the hint of Fae, though I admit that is a mouthwatering additive."

He leaned against the headboard of the bed as Bill and I stood on the dais in front of him. I was at a loss, and remained silent before he continued:

"Vampires can smell when a human has killed," Felipe hissed and I gulped as I thought about how many people had died at my hands over the years. "Murder inspires a visceral reaction in the blood, makes it flow more hotly…pump more wildly."

Felipe licked his lips and his eyes stayed trained on me. "A human is never more delectable than right after they have committed that mortal sin. Though I sense it has been awhile since you last took someone's life, a faint aroma still lingers appealingly. I dare say you have taken many lives..."

I looked up at Bill accusingly. Why had nobody ever told me this? Being a murderer was not something I was proud of, and I still contended that all of the killing I did was in self defense. But it nevertheless haunted me to think of shooting Debbie Pelt with a Benelli Shotgun, sticking an iron trowel in a fairy as I was gardening, and staking Lorena to save Bill in Mississippi. I never imagined that my body count was actually adding to the vampires' lust for me.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but what does all this have to do with Sookie's proposal that you kill the Queen of Oklahoma in exchange for her kingdom?" Bill spoke stiffly and I could tell his nerves were elevating. He was not as skilled at maintaining a calm appearance as Eric was.

"Patience, Mr. Compton. Now, I see why you've come to me, Ms. Stackhouse," Felipe got up off of the bed and began circling us like a shark, "I must admit, I admire your strategic thinking. Mr. Northman cannot kill the Queen himself because it will surely lead to his true death," my shoulders slumped, sensing a long monologue coming.

"And even if you had an army of willing vampires to aid and abet your murderous intentions, you probably wouldn't be able to find the Queen's out-of-state palace without me. Freyda keeps her whereabouts strictly hidden. I doubt even Mr. Northman himself knows exactly where the castle is, as he was likely blindfolded when he arrived. But with my royal status, I not only know where the Queen resides, but can waltz right inside like an old friend."

Felipe flashed a toothy grin, his fangs poking down menacingly. He stood right in front of me, placing his icy hands on my shoulders.

"Admit it, Ms. Stackhouse. You _need_ me."

"Yes. I need you." Though it annoyed me to say it, I knew it was time to swallow my pride. Felipe sounded like he was on the verge of accepting.

"Very well!" he clapped his hands happily. "Now, although the offer of Oklahoma is quite tempting, I unfortunately have urgent matters to attend to back in Nevada and will be unable to fulfill your request."

My heart sank to the floor and I swallowed hard. All of this effort for Felipe to just flat out say no made me want to cry, although I refused to show such weakness in front of the monarch. I cast my eyes down at the dark red sheepskin rug, defeated.

"However," the King's voice cut through the silence, "I would not be averse to _you_ carrying out the Queen's murder, Ms. Stackhouse." I looked up and met his eyes, bewilderment bathing my features.

"You and _only_ you must kill her, Sookie Stackhouse. I will smell it in your blood when you do. And bring me her wedding ring when you are finished."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**My Lovely Readers,**

** I hope you've enjoyed this (rather lengthy) chapter. Now the gauntlet has been thrown and I promise Sookie will not balk at the challenge. I appreciate all of your kind and encouraging comments; I try to respond to each and every one. Your words mean so much to me. **

** Also, a special shout out to Northman Maille for giving me some very helpful tips. I've tried to employ the advice in this chapter, what did you think? **

** The next installment may be a little bit of a wait as exams are fast approaching and I actually have to, ahem, "study" :/ **

** If I don't get back to you all before Thanksgiving I hope you have a Happy Holiday!**

**- Peach**


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